Shadow COMPLETE
by Lexwing
Summary: Sequel to Stray and Ryan
1. Default Chapter

Time: after "Rosetta" Spoilers: "Stray", "Ryan", "Rosetta" Rating: PG-13 for violence and some mild language Disclaimer: all characters property of DC Comics, the WB, etc. Please don't sue the starving grad student.  
  
"Earth to Clark? Hello?"  
  
Clark blinked and focused on the hand waving wildly in front of his eyes. He smiled sheepishly at his editor, Chloe Sullivan, who was standing in front of him with a frown.  
  
"Sorry, Chloe, what?"  
  
"You're been staring out the window for the last five minutes, Clark," his friend Pete Ross supplied.  
  
Chloe peered out the open window in the direction Clark had been looking. Seeing only the athletic field, deserted now that classes were over for the day, she turned her sharp blue eyes back on her friend.  
  
"You've been really out of it the last few weeks, Clark. What is up with you?"  
  
Clark cleared his throat hastily.  
  
"Uh, not much, Chloe."  
  
Pete quickly rushed to his friend's defense.  
  
"Lay off, Chloe, so he's been daydreaming a little. Isn't it bad enough you've stuck him with covering the repaving of the faculty parking lot?"  
  
Chloe tapped her foot loudly. "Yeah, well, if he'd spoken up when I'd asked for story suggestions, maybe he'd get the better assignments."  
  
Clark didn't miss the quick grins that flashed like lightening across his best friends' faces.  
  
"So what's Pete covering?"  
  
"Oh, not much." Pete propped his feet on the scratched coffee table in front of him. "Just cheerleader tryouts."  
  
Clark groaned.  
  
"Hey, man, you snooze, you loose," Pete laughed.  
  
Chloe sat back down in front of her computer. "I have got to get some girls on staff here," she sighed, hastily punching up her email program.  
  
While Chloe sorted, Clark flopped down on the couch next to his best friend. This corner of the Torch's office was almost as good as a living room, with a squishy couch, mini-fridge, and coffee machine.  
  
"You can come to tryouts with me if you want," Pete said in a softer voice so Chloe wouldn't overhear. "Twelve girls are going after the one spot open this semester, so I'm counting on a pretty good girl fight."  
  
"Nah, thanks anyway, Pete. I'm not really in the mood."  
  
Pete frowned. "Look, I know what Swann told you was.heavy, to say the least. But you've still got a life here, man. You've got your folks, you've got me. And Chloe," he nodded in the direction of their editor. "Even when she ignores us," he said more loudly.  
  
"Check this out, guys," Chloe said excitedly. "There's been a last minute addition to Metropolis University's 'Future Tech' lecture series."  
  
"Chloe, you've tried to get into that before. They don't give out tickets to the general public." Pete grabbed a soda out of the fridge. "And you know they only let bigwigs and mad scientists present at that thing anyway."  
  
"But I got them to add me to the email list, didn't I? This says the next one will be 'Transmission, Reception, and Breakthrough: New Directions in Human Brain Research.'"  
  
Clark stood reluctantly and stretched-he hadn't been sleeping very well lately.  
  
"Sounds riveting, Chloe," he joked feebly.  
  
But Chloe scowled at him.  
  
"No, this is important, Clark. What was the name of that doctor who tried to get custody of Ryan James away from your parents?"  
  
Clark froze mid-stretch. "Garner, why?"  
  
"He's the one who's been added to the schedule. Look, right here: 'Dr. Henry Garner, Summerholt Institute.'"  
  
Clark circled the desk and stood behind Chloe, reading aloud over her shoulder.  
  
"'Dr. Garner, head of the prestigious Summerholt Neurological Institute of Metropolis."  
  
"Yeah, prestigious for attempted kidnapping," Pete interrupted, joining their huddle around the computer."  
  
".will be presenting his latest research into the electromagnetic fields generated by the human brain and the implications of this research for non- verbal communication.'"  
  
"Sounds to me like a complicated way of saying 'psychic abilities.'" Chloe craned her neck to look up at Clark. "Do you think he's written up whatever he learned from Ryan and now he wants to present it?"  
  
Clark began pacing across the small room. He wanted desperately to put his fist through something, but knew that kind of demonstration was not going to get him anywhere. His good friend, Ryan James, one of the few people Clark had trusted completely with his secret, had been resting quietly in a small plot over in Smallville Cemetery for several months now, but he was never far from Clark's thoughts.  
  
The young man ran an agitated hand through his dark hair.  
  
"It could be. Ryan said Garner kept testing him over and over again. He thought it was to collect data, but he wasn't sure for what."  
  
"Now we know," Chloe said grimly. She had only met Ryan a few times, but she had been genuinely fond of him.  
  
"But why would Garner take that kind of risk?" Pete verbalized what Clark was thinking. "Look at what happens to Chloe's stories about the weird things that happen around here. Nobody but the tabloids pay attention." Pete glanced apologetically at his friend. "Sorry, but you know it's true."  
  
Chloe looked over at the Wall of Weird, her ever-growing collection of news stories, photographs, and documents recording the strange events that had plagued Smallville since the meteor shower thirteen years earlier. She sighed.  
  
"Well, if I were in his shoes I wouldn't be trying something like this unless I felt I had pretty convincing evidence. Otherwise I'd risk looking like an idiot in front of Metropolis' whole scientific community."  
  
"And that evidence came from Ryan. Maybe even contributed to his death," Clark said angrily.  
  
"You can't prove that, Clark," Chloe said softly.  
  
"You guys didn't know him like I did." Clark's expression hardened. "He was terrified of Garner, afraid he's come after him again, all the way until."  
  
Clark trailed off. Although Pete and Chloe were both looking at him sympathetically, Clark knew there was no way to make them understand. Even though he knew for certain now he was not human, that he was totally alone on this planet, Clark had felt a special bond with Ryan. Because, in his own way, Ryan had been alone, too. Different. Afraid of that difference. In danger because of it.  
  
"I'm not going to let Garner profit from Ryan's death," Clark finally said. "I owe him that much."  
  
Pete shook his head. "I don't think there's much you can do, Clark. It's not like you can just march into Summerholt and Dr. Garner will hand over his research notes." As he spoke, Pete shot him a more significant look, one that told Clark to put whatever scheme he might be envisioning out of his head.  
  
While Clark would have liked nothing better than to get his hands on Garner, he knew his friend was right. Garner had already proved how aggressive he could get when he cornered. If it hadn't been for Lex Luthor's timely intervention he would have been able to drag Ryan back to Metropolis and have Clark tossed in jail.  
  
An idea crossed Clark's mind. "Hey, Chloe, who gets tickets to the lecture series? I mean, what do you have to do to get them?"  
  
"Uh, besides have a Nobel Prize or a grant from the National Science Foundation?" Chloe shook her head. "Forget it, Clark, you'd have to have some kind of major leverage to get in, especially at this late date. The lecture's next week."  
  
"How about donating a business building to Metropolis University? Would that be enough leverage?"  
  
Chloe frowned for a moment, and then her face lit up with a wide smile.  
  
"Clark, of course. I can't believe I didn't think of that. You're a genius."  
  
Clark shrugged self-effacingly. "I try." ****************************  
  
"Mom? How about another glass of ginger ale?" Clark asked over his shoulder as he wrapped up the leftover fried chicken and put it in the fridge.  
  
"That would be nice, sweetheart, thank you."  
  
Clark filled a tumbler and carried it over to the couch; his mother smiled up at him from where she lay.  
  
"I don't know why I got so queasy. I had no trouble while your dad was cooking, but when it was right there in front of me." Martha Kent turned slightly green again, and Clark hastily changed the subject.  
  
"Here, let me help you sit up so you'll be more comfortable." He grabbed another pillow off one of the chairs and stuffed it behind his mother's back. "Besides, the less you eat the more there is for me."  
  
"Ha ha, very funny." His mother took a deep gulp from the glass. "Ah, that's better. My stomach's settling down a bit now. I guess the baby doesn't like your dad's fried chicken very much."  
  
"Who doesn't like my fried chicken?" Jonathan Kent repeated as he came through the back door from the barn.  
  
"The new baby," Clark told him. "Maybe he or she wants to be a vegetarian," he teased his mother, who smiled widely.  
  
Jonathan hung up his jacket. "Speaking of chickens, ours are fed and settled for the night, honey, so you turn in early if you want," he told his wife. Then he frowned. "Or I could fix you some soup; I don't think you should go without eating."  
  
"Go without eating? I ate most of a pie at lunchtime," Martha said exasperatedly. "Honestly, one minute I'm ravenous and the next I can't even look at food." As she glanced at the worried expressions on both her son's and her husband's faces, she shook her head.  
  
"Please don't hover, you two-I'm not sick."  
  
"Just pregnant." Jonathan took his wife's hand, squeezing it tightly.  
  
His parents exchanged a tender smile, and Clark rolled his eyes. They had always done that a lot, but it was even more frequent now his mother was expecting a baby.  
  
"Look, if you guys are going to get all mushy I'm going upstairs to my room."  
  
"Oh, no you're not-you're going to help me do the dishes," his father corrected.  
  
"I'll help." Martha moved to get up, but her husband and son waved her back.  
  
"We can do the dishes, Martha," Jonathan insisted.  
  
"It's probably my turn anyway," Clark agreed.  
  
Martha leaned back against the pillow with a satisfied smiled.  
  
"Maybe there are some perks to this after all," she laughed.  
  
As Jonathan filled the sink with hot water and soap Clark cleared what was left of the dinner dishes. His father scrubbed; Clark rinsed and dried. He knew he could do the job a whole lot faster by himself, but it was nice to have the company. The first thing he could remember was this warm kitchen: the yellow walls, the blue and white dishes, even the green flyswatter hanging on the wall seemed to have always been there. And his mom and dad, close by, always smiling.  
  
Would his biological parents have smiled at him like that? Had they even been capable of smiling? Of feeling love?  
  
"What is it, son?" Jonathan looked thoughtfully at him, and Clark realized he'd sighed out loud.  
  
"Nothing," he lied. "But, um, Dad? I did want to talk to you and Mom about something."  
  
"Sure, go ahead."  
  
Clark related the discoveries of the afternoon to his parents: that Dr. Garner was still in Metropolis; that whatever Garner was going to speak about might have been gleaned from his cruel mistreatment of Ryan; and that Clark was determined to hear what the man had to say.  
  
When he finished his mother shook her head.  
  
"Clark, you know we cared about Ryan as much as you did, but I don't see what good confronting Dr. Garner is going to do."  
  
"It might actually make things worse," his dad nodded.  
  
Clark tossed down his dishtowel in disgust.  
  
"I can't just stand here and do nothing. Look, I promise I won't hurt the guy-I won't even make a scene. I just want to hear what he has to say, that's all."  
  
"Clark, we understand how you feel but the last thing you want to do is attract Garner's attention again." Jonathan put the pots and pans in the sink to soak as he talked. "Besides, if Chloe Sullivan can't get in to this.lecture series or whatever it is, I don't see how you're going to."  
  
Idly twisting the hem of his yellow shirt, Clark shrugged.  
  
"Well, I kinda asked Lex to see if he could get Chloe and me in."  
  
Jonathan's eyebrows arched ominously. "You asked Lex without consulting your mother and me first?"  
  
"I just called him, is all. He said he'd see what he could do. He sounded pretty confident he could pull some strings, though."  
  
"Of course he can-the Luthors have paid for half the buildings on that campus," Martha said wryly. She shot her husband a quick look.  
  
"Jonathan, I don't think there's any real harm in letting Clark go, not so long as he promises not to confront Garner. There'll probably be hundreds of people there: no one will even notice Clark."  
  
"I'll sit way in the back and everything," Clark added hopefully. "And I won't even miss school-it's on a Saturday night. Dad, please, this is really important to me. I feel like I'd be letting Ryan down if I didn't go."  
  
Jonathan's expression softened and he laid a hand on his son's shoulder.  
  
"Clark, you did everything you could to help Ryan-he knew that."  
  
The farmer glanced over at his wife, and then back to his son, before sighing tiredly.  
  
"All right. If Lex can pull enough strings to get you in you can go. But I want you to go and then come right back. No adventures, and definitely no drawing attention to yourself. Understood?"  
  
Clark nodded at his father's serious expression.  
  
"Understood. There won't be any trouble, I promise." ***********************************************  
  
"Mr. Luthor, Mr. Kent is here to see you."  
  
Lex pressed a button on the intercom system that connected him to the security guard at the front gate.  
  
"Let him in. Tell him I'm in the library."  
  
"Yes, sir, Mr. Luthor," the disembodied voice responded cheerfully.  
  
Lex smiled wryly to himself as he put away his pool cue and sprawled in one of the room's leather club chairs. He'd had a difficult time maintaining any sort of consistent security presence around the mansion. The estate was too big to bother wiring all the entrances with alarms, and a lot of people chose to simply circumvent the guardhouse at the front gate. But Clark always tried to play by the rules.  
  
A few minutes later the younger man appeared at the library door.  
  
"Hey, Lex. The guy at the gate is new, huh?"  
  
"Third one in two months," Lex nodded. "C'mon in."  
  
Clark grinned. "Yeah, well, they say good help is hard to find."  
  
"You have no idea."  
  
Clark eyed a pile of clothes on the leather sofa suspiciously.  
  
"Uh, Lex? Are you having a garage sale or am I interrupting something?"  
  
Lex smiled and leaned forward a bit.  
  
"Neither. I had the housekeeper rearrange my closets so there'll be room for Helen's things. These are from last season, so I figured I might as well get rid of anything I don't care for any more."  
  
Clark shoved the clothing to one side so he could sit down.  
  
"For Dr. Bryce? You mean she finally gave you an answer about moving in?"  
  
"Not exactly, but I believe in being prepared."  
  
Clark shook his head.  
  
"I'm sure she'll come around, Lex, if you give her some time." He glanced again at the discarded garments, some of which had obviously cost more than his parents' last truck.  
  
"So, you've got to decide if you want to keep the black, the black, or the black. Tough call."  
  
Lex laughed again and stood, crossing the room to his desk.  
"I like black, Clark. I think it suits me. Like you and red and blue. But you didn't drop by for fashion tips, I imagine." He picked up an envelope and held it out to his friend.  
  
Clark stood, too. "Wow, you did it. Thanks!" He took the envelope and opened it to find three pale green tickets. "Three of them?"  
  
"I thought the lecture sounded interesting," Lex shrugged. "Besides, I knew Ryan, too," he said a little more softly.  
  
Clark nodded. Ryan and Lex had gotten off to a rocky start-Ryan had warned Clark that there was more to Lex than met the eye-but Lex had done his best to help the kid and make his last days comfortable. Ryan had been grateful for that.  
  
"And of course I figured Ms. Sullivan would kill me if I didn't let you bring her along." Lex circled around his desk and sat down. "I'm going to be in Metropolis all weekend on business, otherwise I'd offer you two a ride in the limo."  
  
"No, Lex, you've done enough already. I really, really appreciate it."  
  
Lex put his feet up on the glass top of his desk. "It was hardly a challenge. Once the university provost heard my last name he was only too happy to oblige. After all, the Luthor Business Building is now on the front of all of Metropolis University's brochures. A lot of people consider that building a monstrosity, but even I have to admit it's as impressive as it is domineering. Kind of like Dad himself."  
  
Lex laughed. "My father normally attends these lectures, but he won't be back from Switzerland in time for this one. Maybe a little fresh perspective on the human mind will give me a leg up on the old man."  
  
"Maybe," Clark shrugged. He left one of the tickets on the desk and stuffed the other two in his jacket pocket. "Well, I'd better get home- Mom's been a little under the weather so I'm doubling up on chores."  
  
"Nothing serious, I hope?"  
  
Clark grinned sheepishly.  
  
"Probably just a stomach bug or something. Thanks again, Lex. Chloe and I will see you Saturday."  
  
"Of course. See you then." Lex waved slightly as Clark left the room, and then shook his head.  
  
Lex was a little surprised Clark was still keeping the news of Martha Kent's pregnancy to himself. Lex himself only knew about it because it had been in Martha Kent's medical file, the file he had purchased from a hospital employee after Helen had refused to share any information with him. Of course, Mrs. Kent would start showing soon enough, and then everyone would know.  
  
He felt a little sorry for Clark, actually. Sixteen years was a big gap between siblings. Lex was almost six years older than his half-brother Lucas, and had been eleven years older than his deceased brother Julian. He'd never felt very attached to either one. But the Kents were a very affectionate family, and Lex figured it would all work out for the best in the end.  
  
He picked up the letter opener from his desk and weighed it thoughtfully in one hand. Neither Clark nor Ryan himself had been totally honest about what Ryan's abilities had been. Lex suspected Ryan had been an unusual boy, but how or why his abilities had manifested Lex had never been able to discover. Not that he supported the mistreatment Ryan James had evidently received at the Summerholt Institute. No child deserved that, not even an exceptional one.  
  
But Lex remained very interested in Dr. Garner's work for another reason.  
  
Since moving to Smallville almost two years before, Lex had become increasingly fascinated with the unusual abilities people in the area sometimes manifested, interested enough that he continued to fund Cadmus Labs to study the meteor rocks found scattered though the county. But Cadmus was not licensed to work with human patients. Nor was the Summerholt Institute, at least not living ones. As far as Lex knew the only pure research facility that had legal permission to do so was Metropolis' own highly secretive S.T.A.R. Labs. But S.T.A.R. Labs did not share their research with anyone, no matter what the inducement. Garner apparently did not suffer from the same scruples.  
  
True, he and Dr. Garner had not exactly seen eye-to-eye before. But that could be easily changed.  
  
Lex did not believe he had lied to Clark, not really. He really was interested in Garner because of his connection to Ryan James. James had been a nice kid who hadn't deserved to die the way he had.  
  
But Lex was also a pragmatist. And if Garner's work connected in any way with the research currently going on at Cadmus, Lex would consider sitting through the lecture well worth his valuable time. ***********************************************************  
  
For the second time that evening Clark felt Chloe's fingernails jab into his ribs. It didn't hurt, but he made sure to wince slightly for effect.  
  
"Clark, at least try and stay awake," she hissed in his ear.  
  
From Chloe's other side Lex leaned forward slightly and smiled at them.  
  
Clark nodded and then tried to focus again on the stage. His mother had been right: the large auditorium was full, and some people were actually standing along the back wall. No one had paid any attention to Clark or Chloe, although many had greeted Lex by name.  
  
What had Pete said about only mad scientists and bigwigs at the "Future Teach" lectures? Well, this crowd certainly fit that description. It was overwhelmingly white, male, over fifty, and, judging from the number of pocket-protectors in evidence, academic.  
  
Clark hadn't been able to help grinding his teeth slightly when Dr. Garner had been introduced: he had been given such a glowing introduction, focusing on his academic credentials, that Clark had wanted to stand up and scream aloud about Ryan. But he was determined to keep his word to his parents, so he bit his tongue.  
  
Garner still looked exactly as Clark remembered him: surprisingly young for someone with all his education, dark-haired, and reasonably good looking. Something about the smug set of Garner's lips made Clark suspect Garner took great pride in his physical appearance as well as his scholarly credentials.  
  
As he listened to the doctor's opening comments, Clark did his best not to hate Garner. His parents had taught him that hating was wrong, that it only led to more hate. But in the back of his mind Clark kept picturing this man giving Ryan injections, keeping him strapped to a hospital gurney, and Clark hated him with all his heart.  
  
Fortunately for Garner, although of course he didn't know it, the lecture itself gave nothing away. While Chloe scribbled frantic notes to herself, and Lex listened with an inscrutable expression, Clark did his best to follow along with what the doctor was saying. As far as he could tell it was a lot about "electro conductivity" and "neurotransmitters" and a few other things Clark hadn't run across in his high school Biology textbook. Most of the audience seemed interested, but no one was reacting as if what Garner was saying was all that radical. Clark felt increasingly let down about the whole evening as Garner blathered on and on.  
  
As he flipped through his last few slides, the doctor smiled indulgently at the audience. Obviously he was pleased with how his lecture was going.  
  
"In conclusion, esteemed colleagues, I would just like to remark that we are only now embarking on a brave new voyage of discovery. Let us not forget that the human brain is the last great 'undiscovered country' of biological research. Science has yet to fully grasp the possibilities of this magnificent organ for transcending what we currently believe to be the limits of human communication and ability. Once we discover how to unlock that potential there will be no limits to what man will be able to accomplish. Thank you."  
  
While the audience applauded, Chloe leaned closer to Clark.  
  
"Nice bit of self-publicity there at the end, huh?"  
  
"The Shakespeare quote was a nice touch," Lex offered.  
  
"Lex, isn't there going to be a question and answer session or something?" Chloe frowned as she saw people around them gathering up their coats and pushing past them toward the aisles. "I want to corner Garner on why the Metropolis P.D. dropped their investigation of Summerholt after Ryan died."  
  
Lex smiled indulgently at the cub reporter. "Questions are usually asked informally at the reception afterward. But I should warn you security is pretty tight at these things-you might get ejected if you offend the guest speaker."  
  
Chloe stood and grabbed her shoulder bag.  
  
"He doesn't scare me," she explained as she fished out her camera. "I've been thrown out of better places than this."  
  
Clark grinned at Lex.  
  
"The sad thing is she really has been."  
  
Clark and Chloe followed their friend into the large reception hall adjacent to Metropolis University's main auditorium. The room was already crowded with people filling up on hors d'oevres and drinks, and Chloe stood on her tiptoes to look for Garner.  
  
"Hey, Clark, you're the tall one: put that height to good use and see if you can spot Garner for me, ok? Wait, there he is, over in the far corner."  
  
Lex followed her eyes and smiled. "Chloe, just so you know, that's the president of the university he's standing with. I'd be careful what you say if I were you."  
  
Chloe's face fell. Clark knew how much she wanted to attend Metropolis U, but she also wanted her story.  
  
Lex obviously decided to take pity on her.  
  
"Let's all go: strength in numbers and all that."  
  
Chloe, never one to miss an opportunity, hastily snapped a few pictures of the doctor as they crossed the room.  
  
But as they approached it seemed someone else was determined to confront Garner before they could. A tall, auburn haired woman approached him and said something in a low voice. Clark couldn't pick it up over the loud buzz of voices in the room, but Dr. Garner blanched.  
  
As he had learned to do, Clark carefully focused his attention until the noises around him died down to a whisper. He watched carefully as the woman spoke again, and this time he could make out what she was saying quite clearly.  
  
"I know what you did. And you're not going to get away with it."  
  
No one else was paying any attention to the conversation: the university's president had his back turned and was chatting loudly with a woman in a mink wrap. But Garner still took the young woman by the elbow and pulled her to one side of the room, where they were half-hidden by a colonnade.  
  
As the flash on Chloe's camera went off again the young woman half- turned her head to stare directly at them. Her face was expressionless, and the gaze lasted only a second or two, but Clark felt an old sensation across his back of his neck, almost as if a breeze had brushed past it in the overcrowded, stuffy room.  
  
Without realizing it Clark had stopped in his tracks.  
  
Did this woman, whoever she was, know about what had happened to Ryan? How? Ryan had had an aunt, but she was clear out on the coast, and this woman was too young to be her. A sister, maybe? A half-sister? Was there someone else out there Ryan had never mentioned? Clark's mind reeled for a moment.  
  
Both Lex and Chloe had stopped when he did, and were looking at him oddly.  
  
"Clark, are you all right?" Lex frowned. "I thought you wanted to speak to Garner almost as much as Chloe here does."  
  
Clark glanced at his friends. "Uh, I did-I do." He looked back over at the colonnade, but the woman was gone.  
  
"Hey, where'd she go?"  
  
"Where'd who go, Clark?" Chloe pulled the roll of film out of her camera and deftly inserted a new one. "Stupid low-tech-should have brought my digital," she grumbled to herself as she went back to snapping pictures.  
  
"The woman that was right there, talking to Garner."  
  
"I didn't see anyone," Chloe offered.  
  
Clark was exasperated. "Sure you did, she was right there by that column. It looked like they were having some kind of fight. You must have taken her picture."  
  
"I think I'd remember taking her picture, Clark," Chloe shrugged.  
  
Clark looked hopefully at Lex. "But you saw her, right?"  
  
Lex shook his head. "I saw Garner: look, he's still with President Madchen. But I didn't seen any woman with them, unless you mean Mrs. Vanderkirk. She's the one with the dead animal around her shoulders."  
  
"Look, guys, she was right there, and I think she said something to him about Ryan. Why would I make something like that up?"  
  
"Then let's go ask him," Lex said simply. But before the reached the doctor a burly security guard stepped in their path. "I'm sorry, but Dr. Garner is leaving now-no more questions."  
  
"Hey, I'm the press-he has to talk to me!" Chloe protested loudly.  
  
The guard, however, looked unmoved.  
  
Lex tried a different tack. "We just want a quick word with the doctor: we know him."  
  
If the guard knew who Lex was he gave no sign. "Sorry, President Madchen's orders."  
  
Dr. Garner was already being led away and through a back door, out of the reception area.  
  
Clark couldn't process what had happened. Had he been imagining things? Had he seen a ghost, or had the young woman really been there? And what did she know about Ryan?  
  
He didn't mean to, but for a second Clark totally forgot about his promise to his parents, his vow to keep a low profile. And that second was enough for him to raise his voice and speak loudly enough to be heard by everyone around them.  
  
"Dr. Garner, I want to talk to you about Ryan James."  
  
The doctor did pause for a moment and look over his shoulder-he looked faintly surprised to see Clark there, but if he recognized him he gave no sign of it. In a second the smirk was back on his face and he was gone.  
  
University security, however, had heard enough. It took some of Lex's fastest talking to keep Clark, not Chloe, from being thrown out of the reception hall.  
  
"Wow, Clark, that was a nice try," Chloe told him sympathetically as they beat a hasty retreat from the scene.  
  
"Not that it did any good; I still don't know any more than I did this morning," Clark complained. He again looked from one friend to the other.  
  
"Look, you guys, you aren't pulling my leg or anything, are you? You really didn't see that woman?"  
  
Lex looked at Chloe with raised eyebrows, and she grinned.  
  
"I guess now we know Clark hallucinates when he's under stress. No, Clark, we didn't see anyone yelling at Dr. Garner."  
  
Clark didn't see any point in trying to explain the woman hadn't been yelling.  
  
Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe the stress of the last few weeks had gotten to him. He really didn't know. All he knew was that now he felt even worse. 


	2. ch 2

Clark dumped several spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee and took a deep gulp without bothering to stir it. He loved anything sweet, and even put extra sugar on his cereal. It drove his mom crazy, but so far it didn't seem to be hurting him.  
  
Part of his special physiology was an extraordinarily fast metabolism, definitely a good thing considering how much he ate. Then again, part of it might just be being an adolescent-Pete claimed he was hungry all the time, too.  
  
Clark turned his attention back to the stack of newspapers on the table in front of him. He'd picked up a copy of Daily Planet, as well as a couple other Metropolis dailies, to read the coverage of Garner's lecture. Most devoted only a few sentences to the event, but in the Planet it had made the first section, though not the front page.  
  
He briefly skimmed the story itself, which told him nothing he didn't already know, and then focused carefully on the accompanying photos. One showed Garner on stage in mid-gesture; two more showed him standing at the reception with prominent city residents. None of them showed the young woman Clark had seen.  
  
He shoved the stack aside with a sigh. Well, it had been a long shot anyway. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, but he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the incident the rest of the weekend. He hadn't told anyone about it, not even his parents-if he really had started hallucinating they'd just worry, and they had enough to worry about as it was.  
  
"Don't look so glum, Clark," a voice spoke up over his shoulder. "Whatever's in the newspapers can't be that bad."  
  
"Oh, hey, Lana." Clark did his best to smile welcomingly at Lana Lang. The beautiful brunette had a serving tray tucked under one arm, and even in a Talon apron she looked adorable. "Sorry, I was just thinking."  
  
Lana sat down across the table from him and smiled sympathetically.  
  
"About Ryan?" At his look of surprise she nodded. "Chloe told me about Dr. Garner-I hope that's ok."  
  
"Oh, yeah, no problem. It wasn't like we learned anything anyway."  
  
Lana was regarding him steadily from under her dark lashes.  
  
"But it couldn't have been very pleasant to see him again. I'm surprised you didn't slug him-I would have,"  
  
Clark had to laugh out loud. Lana looked so sweet and mild that it always surprised him to be reminded she had a temper. He cleared his throat at her exasperated expression.  
"I'm sure you would have, Lana. Believe me, I considered it, too, but it wouldn't bring Ryan back."  
  
Lana shook her head sadly. "No, you're right, of course. But I just wanted you to know I haven't forgot him, either."  
  
"I'm sure wherever he is Ryan knows that, Lana."  
  
Lana leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.  
  
"Clark, I haven't had a chance to ask you-how is your search for your birth parents going?"  
  
It was a good thing Clark didn't have a mouthful of coffee, or he might have spit it out. He'd forgotten he'd excitedly told Lana he was making headway in finding out about his origins. Even at the time he knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but he'd felt that if anyone would understand his plight, Lana would. Not about being an alien, of course, because he did everything in his power to keep her from finding out about that. But Lana was an orphan, too. She knew what it was like to long for a family you'd never see again.  
  
"I hit a dead end," he lied.  
  
"Oh, Clark, I'm so sorry. But don't stop looking. I'm sure the answers you want are out there somewhere."  
  
Before Clark could formulate the right response Chloe breezed through the front doors of the Talon. Her short blond hair stuck out from her head in several directions at once, a sure sign she was in the middle of something exciting.  
  
She threw her denim jacket and bag on the chair next to Clark and grinned at Lana.  
  
"Hey, Lana, could you make me a double mocha with some whipped cream? I skipped lunch and I'm jonesing for some sugar."  
  
Lana smiled at her roommate.  
  
"Sure, no problem." As Lana walked back to the counter Chloe glanced around the converted theater. The after-school crowd was still a little sparse, but thing would start picking up soon.  
  
"Hey, Clark, you're looking very troubled today. What's up?" She eyed the newspapers. "Ah, catching up on the local rags, huh? The Planet did a nice job with Garner's lecture but the Tribune's coverage was way weak. No wonder their circulation is down." Chloe had spent the previous summer interning with the Planet, and in her eyes it could do no wrong.  
  
Clark shrugged. "I guess."  
  
"Talkative, too. That thing about the girl is still really bugging you, huh?"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it, Chloe."  
  
"Maybe we should. It could be important."  
  
"Chloe, I thought I saw someone who wasn't there. I imagined it, ok? Ha ha, very funny, everyone laugh at Clark. Can we move on now?"  
  
Chloe looked genuinely taken aback by Clark's vehemence. She unconsciously laid a hand on one of his.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry. I know I rib you sometimes."  
  
"Sometimes?"  
  
"OK, a lot, but it's just kinda how I am. You know I would never make fun of you deliberately, right?"  
  
Chloe's face held such a combination of concern and hopefulness that Clark instantly relented.  
  
"Yeah, I know, sorry I'm so touchy." He glanced down at Chloe's hand.  
  
When her eyes followed his she blushed and snatched her hand back.  
  
"So, ahem, anyway," Chloe quickly began digging though her bag so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes, "tell me what she looked like. The mystery woman."  
  
Clark drank the last of his coffee. "Chloe."  
  
"I have my reasons, Clark. Go ahead."  
  
The boy was thoughtful for a long moment. "Um, let's see. Older, I guess."  
  
"Older? Like how old?"  
  
"I dunno. Older than us. Lex's age, maybe."  
  
"Hair and eyes?"  
  
Clark sighed. "Uh, reddish hair. Not bright red-brownish red, kinda like my mom's. I don't know what color her eyes were; she was too far away."  
  
"And she was with Dr. Garner for how long?"  
  
"A couple of minutes, that's all-what, do you want to put out an APB on her or something?"  
  
Chloe grinned triumphantly. "I don't need to."  
  
She set a stack of photos in front of Clark. He recognized them as the ones taken at the reception.  
  
Chloe thumbed through the stack as she spoke.  
  
"You were so insistent about having seen her that I had the photo lab do a rush job." She stopped before one photo halfway down in the pile, and held it up for inspection.  
  
"Is that her?"  
  
Clark was dumbfounded. He took the photo and looked at it closely.  
  
There was the scene precisely as he remembered. Dr. Garner and the woman stood half-hidden next to column, the woman speaking angrily, Garner looking at her with an expression of suspicion and something else Clark couldn't quite identify.  
  
Chloe had managed to catch the woman in a series of four photographs: in the last one she was looking directly at the camera with an irritated expression, as if she knew she was being photographed and she didn't appreciate it.  
  
"Chloe, you're amazing," Clark said simply.  
  
"Oh, I know," she grinned. "What I want to know is why I don't remember her at all. I was looking right at her through the camera lens, obviously, but until these photos came back I honestly thought you'd imagined the whole thing."  
  
"Lex said he didn't remember her, either." Clark looked at his close friend with a frown. "But she was there; we have proof. How is that possible?"  
  
"I dunno, Clark. But I'd like to know, wouldn't you?"  
  
Lana reappeared with a tall mug and a refill for Clark. "I added an extra shot of espresso to yours, Chloe, so drink it slowly."  
  
But Chloe had already taken a deep gulp.  
  
"Whoa, you sure did. It's good, though." Chloe smiled warmly at Lana. The two girls were still treading a little carefully around each other, even though Chloe had forgiven Lana for her computer trespassing.  
  
After Lana had gone to check on the next table Chloe glanced back at Clark.  
  
"So you've never seen her before? Do you think she might be related to Ryan?"  
  
"No, I've never seen her before. But that would explain why she's angry at Garner" Clark frowned. "Ryan's mother's dead, and his aunt was a lot older than this woman."  
  
"Maybe on the father's side then."  
  
"That's possible, I guess, but then why didn't she come forward when Ryan was alive?"  
  
"Maybe she didn't know about Ryan until recently. You know, like Lana and Henry Small."  
  
Clark rubbed his jaw. "Well, I need to find her again. I want to know what she's got on Garner. If she knows something that could put him out of business for good she needs to go to the police." He looked hopefully at his editor, who laughed.  
  
"I kinda figured you'd say that, Clark, so I twisted some arms at the university and got them to fax over a list of all the attendees. The university keeps track of who actually uses their tickets so its public relations department can brag about it." She dumped a stack of papers on the table between them.  
  
"But maybe she was someone's guest, like we were," Clark fretted.  
  
"Clark, there's no point in being so negative this early in an investigation. Now there are lots of names on the list, but as you might have noticed that was a heavily male crowd. There're actually fewer than thirty women's names here, and half of those attended with their husbands. Since she looks too young to be married to one of those stuffed shirts-at least I hope so-that leaves us only fifteen names to run down. I figure you can take half, and I'll take half, and we'll see where that gets us."  
  
Clark nodded. On thing he always admired about Chloe: the girl always had a game plan. Always.  
  
At least now he knew he wasn't imagining the whole things. The strange woman had been right in front of his eyes, and one way or another he would find her again. He wasn't sure yet why he needed too, but he did. *********************************************  
  
"So you honestly don't remember her at all?" Clark watched Lex closely as he waited for his friend to answer. He liked Lex a lot, and he spent a lot of time defending him to other people. But even Clark had to admit Lex's track record for telling the truth wasn't exactly stellar.  
  
This time, however, Lex just looked genuinely puzzled as he studied the photograph Chloe had taken.  
  
"No, I don't. Dr. Garner certainly doesn't looked like most men would around such a pretty woman," Lex observed. "Maybe she's an ex-girlfriend or something; believe me, that can ruin anyone's mood."  
  
"No, Lex, I'm sure it's something to do with Ryan."  
  
Lex's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "How do you know that?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but I think she accused him of something, something he wouldn't get away with."  
  
Lex took a drink from the bottle of water on his desk.  
  
"And Chloe doesn't remember seeing her either? Even though she took her picture?"  
  
"No, and that's really strange, don't you think?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
Clark rested his elbows on the desk. He'd made another trip out to the mansion to confirm the billionaire's son didn't remember the woman any more than Chloe did.  
  
He couldn't help but wonder if the woman had caused that. Clark would have said such a thing wasn't possible, but then Ryan had been able to do a lot of things that weren't possible, either. If he and this woman had been related.  
  
But so far Clark had kept this theory to himself. Instead he nodded. "Yeah, well, Chloe and I have done some leg work and we came up with a name. Jenna Iverson. As far as we can tell this is the only lecture of the series she's attended this year. That would jibe with the idea she went there specifically so she could confront Garner."  
  
Lex was frowning to himself, a sure sign he was thinking.  
  
"What, do you know her?"  
  
"Hmm? No, I've never heard of her. But if this is indeed her," Lex held up the photograph again, "I know who her father is."  
  
This was a new development to Clark.  
  
"Really? Who?"  
  
"Dr. Robert Iverson specializes in genetics research. He was at Princeton the same time my dad was, but instead of going into the private sector he took a job on the government's human genome project. The guy was in line for a Nobel Prize," Lex added thoughtfully.  
  
Clark, however, felt slightly chilled. "That was the project where they tried to unscramble and identify all the genes in the human body, right?"  
  
Lex smiled slightly.  
  
"They're still trying, Clark, but without Iverson's help. About fifteen years ago he quite the project rather abruptly and took a job as a professor out at Star City University. Last I heard he was chair of their Biochemistry Department. Quite a waste of talent if you ask me."  
  
Clark chewed his lip thoughtfully. Garner did brain research, this Dr. Iverson had been-was-a geneticist. It couldn't be a coincidence.  
  
"That would explain how she was able to attend the Future Tech lecture," Lex continued. "I'm sure her father still has connections in Metropolis' scientific community." He looked at the younger man. "Clark, I don't know what you overheard or think you overheard between Dr. Garner and this woman. But I have to say that if she is who you think she is I doubt their meeting was accidental."  
  
"No, I guess not."  
  
"Look, Clark, why don't I see what I can find out."  
  
Clark straightened slightly in his chair.  
  
"No, Lex. Really, all I wanted to know is if you remembered anything else." As much as Clark appreciated his friend's connections, Lex had a way of becoming involved in things and then taking them over. It was a Luthor family trait, but Clark knew Lex meant well.  
  
"Unless she does turn out to be related to Ryan James I'm probably just going to drop the whole thing," Clark added. "Thanks anyway."  
  
Lex smiled. "Of course, Clark. Not a problem."  
  
But Clark recognized that smile, and sighed. It was the smile that meant Lex had become interested in something, and that he was now involved whether Clark liked it or not.  
  
**********************************************  
  
Clark thought long and hard about what Lex had told him all through dinner. While his parents chatted Clark pondered what, if anything, Jenna Iverson might have had to do with Ryan.  
  
On the one hand, there was the possibly, now looking pretty remote, that the two had been related. That would be the simplest explanation, but what Lex had said seemed to rule that out. Of course she and Ryan could be more distantly related, but then why would she be so emotional about his death?  
  
Most of the people Clark met who had abnormal abilities had developed them recently, usually from exposure to the meteor rocks. Ryan had said he'd had the ability to read minds for as long as he could remember. Did unusual powers run in families, like green eyes or curly hair?  
  
Or it was possible Jenna wasn't related to Ryan at all, but somehow knew about what had happened to him. This seemed a little more likely. If she was indeed the daughter of Dr. Robert Iverson she no doubt knew a lot more than Clark did about the kind of human research that Garner was into. Maybe Iverson had even been involved in the experiments on Ryan. But would Jenna have turned against her own father? Not knowing her personally, Clark really couldn't say.  
  
Probably the most disturbing option was that Jenna hadn't been referring to Ryan at all, but to someone or something else. Did that mean Garner had harmed other people in the course of his research? Other kids, maybe? But if so why hadn't anyone stopped him?  
  
Clark pushed away his half-eaten salad and his mother looked at him in concern.  
  
"What is it, Clark? Are you feeling all right?"  
  
All Clark had told his parents was that Garner's lecture hadn't revealed anything about Ryan. He knew he should have chosen that moment to come clean, and tell his parents about the photographs and the strange incident at the lecture, but he just couldn't do it.  
  
The phone rang, and Clark jumped out of his chair to answer it.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Both his parents were watching with puzzled expressions; Clark turned slightly to one side so he didn't have to look at them.  
  
"Hey, Clark. Sorry to interrupt dinner but I double-checked what Lex told you, and he's right, as usual. It probably is Jenna Iverson: she's enrolled as a graduate student at Metropolis University."  
  
As he listened to Chloe Clark squeezed the phone a little tighter before remembering he'd shatter the plastic if he wasn't careful. "Biology? Chemistry?"  
  
Chloe snorted. "Philosophy, of all things. Talk about your useless majors."  
  
"But then how would she know Garner?"  
  
"It's quite possible they came into contact through her father. Dr. Iverson retired from Star U last year, but he's still got quite a reputation. I got like a million hits on the Internet for his name." Chloe was silent for a moment. "And, Clark? She more than knows Garner."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I called my contact at the Metropolis Police Department this morning, and he got back to me about an hour ago. Garner has a restraining order out against Jenna Iverson."  
  
Clark hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until that moment. "So then Lex was right. She's probably an ex-girlfriend and they're still fighting about something."  
  
"You have to do more than fight to get a retraining order against someone, Clark," Chloe corrected. "She'd have to have physically threatened him in front of witnesses."  
  
Clark thought for a moment. She'd definitely been angry with Garner, that was for sure. But Garner was taller than she was, and he'd certainly had looked more than capable of defending himself. Had fear been the strange expression on Garner's face in the photo? Was he afraid of Jenna Iverson? Why?  
  
"Look, Clark, I haven't been able to get a copy of the order, but if Garner could convince a judge I'd say there's a good chance this woman is dangerous."  
  
"Garner's a liar, Chloe, we both know that." Clark glanced over his shoulder: his parents were both unabashedly staring at him now.  
  
"Uh, look, we'll talk about this at school, Chloe, ok? I think my parents want me off the phone."  
  
"Sure, Clark. Just don't do anything stupid before then."  
  
Chloe hung up, and Clark reluctantly turned back to the dinner table. He obviously had some explaining to do.  
  
"I thought you said you and Chloe didn't learn anything at Garner's lecture," his father said quietly.  
  
"We didn't, Dad, honest. We're just tying up some loose ends." Clark sat back down and stuffed a fork full of lettuce into his mouth.  
  
"Clark, where Chloe's concerned 'loose ends' can be dangerous," his mother reminded him.  
  
"I know," he nodded, his mouth still full. "Everything's fine, you guys. Please stop worrying."  
  
Jonathan Kent was quiet for a long moment.  
  
"It's a parent's prerogative to worry about their kids, Clark," he finally said. But a moment later he went back to asking his wife about the tomato crop, and Clark breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
His parents' seemed willing to let the matter drop. For now, anyway. 


	3. ch 3

Clark paused before the glassed-in entryway of the Summerholt Institute and took a deep breath. Unpleasant memories of the last time he'd been here flooded his mind, and he quickly pushed them aside.  
  
The Institute occupied a contemporary glass and steel building not far from the heart of downtown Metropolis. Lex had told him once that rent on buildings in this part of town was easily in the millions of dollars per month: as he stepped into the tastefully decorated lobby Clark wondered again where Garner was getting all of his money. How much money could there be in esoteric brain research, anyway? The Institute didn't produce or patent anything, and it didn't treat patients.  
  
Except for Ryan.  
  
Clark took a deep breath and approached the reception desk. Fortunately the woman on duty was a different one that he'd confronted months before, or he probably would have been thrown out on his ear. Even so she eyed his plaid shirt and blue jeans with scarcely disguised contempt.  
  
"May I help you?"  
  
"Uh, yes. I'd like to speak to Dr. Garner, please."  
  
The receptionists eyed him as if he was a slightly lower form of life. Clark figured it was a good thing he's parked his truck on the next block: at least she wouldn't see the dented Ford.  
  
"Do you have an appointment?"  
  
"No, but I'm sure he'll want to see me when he knows I'm here," Clark lied. "Please tell him Clark Kent is here."  
  
"Young man, Dr. Garner is very busy. I'm sure if you call and schedule an appointment."  
  
"No, I need to see him today," Clark interrupted. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude but please let him know I'm here. It's very important. Please."  
  
Clark did his best to look unthreatening and hopeful, and after a moment the receptionist shrugged and picked up the phone.  
  
He breathed a sigh of relief as she dialed. The building looked like any other modern office building, but he knew from personal experience it was built like a fortress. He didn't know if he'd be able to break in again without getting caught.  
  
The receptionist exchanged a few terse words with whoever was one the other end, and then gestured for the security guard.  
  
Clark steeled himself for another argument, but to his surprise the woman pressed a button concealed under her desk and the double doors behind her swung open.  
  
"Dr. Garner says he can spare you a few minutes, Mr. Kent. Joel will take you back."  
  
Clark nodded. "Thank you."  
  
He followed the security guard through the doors and into a wide hallway: there were no windows back here, just a series of closed doors. A few people dressed in lab coats passed them, but otherwise the interior was cool and quiet and still, with the antiseptic smell of a hospital.  
  
Clark tried hard to get his nerves under control. He tried not to think about Ryan, and he tried not to think about what his parents would do to him if they knew he was in Metropolis and not in the Torch offices helping put the next issue to bed.  
  
The security guard paused before a door and knocked.  
  
"Come in," Garner's voice said.  
  
As he stepped into the room Clark was surprised to see that the austerity of the rest of the Institute didn't reach into Garner's office. There was a plush red carpet on the floor and heavy red drapes outlining the large windows. A heavy walnut desk and matching chairs occupied the center of the room while bookcases lined the other walls. To Clark it looked more like the office of a banker than that of a scientist.  
  
"Mr. Kent, how extraordinary you should come to see me again." Garner stood, but didn't offer to shake hands with Clark. "You can go now, Joel- I'll buzz if I need you." He waved away the security guard.  
  
When the two men were alone in the room Garner's eyes narrowed.  
  
"This makes twice in two weeks we've met, Clark. Is there something I can do for you?"  
  
"So you did see me at the lecture. I wasn't sure, since you didn't respond to my question," Clark said sharply.  
  
Garner laughed. "I never respond when people make scenes, Clark, it only encourages them. And I hope you haven't come all this way just to make more wild accusations, because I am a very busy man."  
  
"No, actually I came because I wanted to ask if Ryan James had any family that you knew about other than his aunt."  
  
Garner said back down behind his desk. "No, not that I'm aware of. Do you have some personal effects of his you want to dispose of?"  
  
Clark tried not to let on that his skin was crawling at the doctor's nonchalant attitude towards Ryan.  
  
"No, but I saw you arguing with a woman at the FutureTech lecture and thought she might be a relative."  
  
Garner raised his eyebrows, but unlike Lex, the man was a lousy liar.  
  
"What woman?"  
  
It was Clark's turn to smile.  
  
"I believe her name in Jenna Iverson. She looked really upset."  
  
Garner folded his hands under his chin.  
  
"Oh, of course, Ms. Iverson. The poor young woman was quite angry: accused me of treating some friend of hers who I gather has been institutionalized. Absurd, of course."  
  
"So that was the first time you'd ever met her?"  
  
The doctor looked hesitant for a moment. "Yes."  
  
"That's strange, doctor, because according to the Metropolis Police you've had a restraining order against her for the last month."  
  
Garner's eyes were mere slits now. "That was the first time we'd met in person. Ms. Iverson has been harassing my staff, making scenes in the lobby. I felt a restraining order was in the Institute' best interests. Are you accusing me of something?"  
  
Clark leaned forward a bit.  
  
"The friend she spoke of, it wasn't Ryan James?"  
  
"No. Now, Clark, I think I've said all I care to. I've tried to be accommodating but if you have anything else to say to me I think you should talk to my lawyers."  
  
Garner must have had a concealed button on his desk as well, because the door opened and the security guard reappeared.  
  
"Sure, I'll leave. But I just want you to know that if you've hurt anyone else the way you hurt Ryan I'll find out about it, and I'll make sure you don't get away with it."  
  
Garner smiled his cold smile.  
  
"Threatening me, Mr. Kent?" He eyed the security guard. "You heard that, didn't you, Joel?"  
  
"I did, Dr. Garner."  
  
Garner stood. "Please escort Mr. Kent off the property and make sure that he doesn't return." He eyed Clark again. "And that includes any midnight visits. If you come here again I'll have you in jail so fast it will make your head spin."  
  
Clark tried to look disingenuous. "I don't know what you mean. But you haven't seen the last of me, Dr. Garner."  
  
Clark allowed himself to be hustled out of the room by the security guard. Back on the sidewalk outside he sighed.  
  
Garner had unwittingly told him a few things he'd wanted to know. For one thing, whatever grudge Jenna Iverson held against Garner really did have to do with his work. The doctor had let it slip that Iverson had accused him of mistreating another patient. Where was that patient now? Why hadn't Iverson gone to the police?  
  
Clark glanced at his watch. It was only 4:30; he figured he could spend a few more hours in Metropolis before he'd have to leave for home. He just hoped than in the meantime his parents' didn't decide to call Chloe and check up on him. Chloe would cover for him, of course, but she'd be furious that he'd gone to Metropolis without her. And Clark would almost rather face two angry parents than another fight with Chloe.  
  
Almost. *****************************************  
  
Darkness had fallen over the city by the time Clark reached his next objective. After leaving the Summerholt Institute he'd gone over the Metropolis University in search of Jenna Iverson. The registrar had refused to give him any information, and the secretary at the Philosophy Department had been just as reticent, although nicer about it.  
  
"I'm sorry, but we don't give out any information about our students without their permission," the plump woman had told him. "If it's about a class I suggest you talk to the undergraduate advisor."  
  
Under other circumstances Clark would have been pleased to be mistaken for a college student, but it didn't seem to be getting him the information he needed. He wished he thought faster on his feet: Chloe or Pete could have made up an effective lie in a few seconds, while all he could do was stand there like an idiot.  
  
"Uh, it is about a class, well, kind of. I did need to talk to her about it, though, not the, uh, advisor."  
  
The department secretary must have been used to having babbling kids in her office, because she had smiled.  
  
"Well, I think the graduate council meeting should be letting out just about now-if you hurry you might be able to catch her there. Otherwise you can leave a message for her and I'll see she gets it."  
  
"No, I'll hurry."  
  
"The council meets in the Luthor Business Building, second floor lounge."  
  
Clark had smiled. "Thanks."  
  
He had waited patiently outside the business building-as ugly and intimidating as Lex had promised-and watched until a group of people left. In their midst was a tall, auburn-haired woman in jeans and a black sweater.  
  
Jenna Iverson.  
  
Unsure what he wanted to say, Clark had trailed the group through the main quadrangle and across the street to a coffee shop just of campus.  
  
Now, standing outside, Clark tried to rehearse what he wanted to say to Iverson, but the questions kept getting all tangled up in his mind. He watched through the window as the group drank coffee and talked: glancing at his watch he could see there was no way he'd make it home in time for dinner.  
  
Finally the other people started to leave, but Iverson pulled out a book and propped it up against the napkin holder to read.  
  
Clark seized his opportunity. He went into the coffee shop, which in spite of the university clientele was anything but young and hip. Scuffed linoleum floors ran up to a long counter with old-fashioned swiveling stools, and half a dozen red vinyl booths lined the side by the windows. He approached the last booth and, when Iverson didn't look up, cleared his throat.  
  
"Hi. Can I sit here?"  
  
She looked at him with a stern expression in her dark brown eyes.  
  
"There are plenty of other booths."  
  
"I know, but I kinda wanted to talk to you."  
  
The woman shrugged.  
  
"Suit yourself." As Clark sat down opposite her she studied him for a moment. "You're not one of my students, are you?"  
  
"Uh, no, I'm still in high school."  
  
"Ok. Want some coffee?" Iverson waved at the waitress, and the sturdily built woman in a faded pink uniform unceremoniously thunked down a mug of black brew in front of Clark. He eyes it suspiciously, but didn't think this was the kind of place where he could order a cappuccino.  
  
Iverson watched until the waitresses had retreated back behind the counter, and then turned her attention back to Clark.  
  
"I suppose you think you're very clever, following me across campus like that. What do you want?"  
  
Clark took a sip of the coffee and almost choked. It was dreadful stuff.  
  
"I didn't think you saw me."  
  
"Of course I saw you, skulking around-you're lucky no one called the campus police."  
  
"I wasn't skulking." Clark dumped several spoonfuls of powdered creamer into his cup, hoping it would make the coffee more drinkable. It didn't. "I was just waiting for a good opportunity to speak to you. About Dr. Garner."  
  
She closed her copy of John Stuart Mill and shoved it aside.  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"I saw you arguing with him at the Future Tech lecture. You said to him that he wouldn't get away with something."  
  
Iverson's eyes widened. "How do you know what I said to him?"  
  
Clark blushed and stirred his coffee again. "It doesn't matter. You were there, right?"  
  
He could tell she was trying hard to look nonchalant.  
  
"If you saw me I must have been there," she shrugged.  
  
"Look, there's no need to cop an attitude. Garner had a good friend of mine as a patient, a friend who died recently. I have reason to believe Garner was mistreating him at the Institute."  
  
Iverson took a sip of her own drink. "From what I hear Summerholt isn't supposed to have patients," she said mildly.  
  
"No, but they had this one. Maybe others, as well. Maybe someone you knew?"  
  
"Why do you want to know?"  
  
Clark took a deep breath.  
  
"Because if he harmed one person there's a good chance he's harmed others. The police wouldn't do anything about what happened to my friend, but if there are others who come forward, maybe the Institute will be shut down."  
  
"There aren't any others. At least not that will come forward."  
  
Clark tried to keep his temper in check.  
  
"But there are others?"  
  
Iverson smiled at him, but there was no friendliness in it.  
  
"I don't know. What I do know is that I went to the Institute once-once- to speak to Garner and got slapped with a restraining order. My record was clean before that. He's got a lot of pull in this town and I wouldn't try to confront him if I were you."  
  
She reached into her pocket and threw a couple of dollar bills on the table. "I think that's about all I'm willing to say."  
  
"Wait," Clark said, holding up a hand. "Why won't you help me?"  
  
"Because there's nothing we can do. Nice meeting you, kid, but don't bother me again."  
  
As she headed for the exit Clark stood and nearly collided with their surly waitress. After apologizing profusely Clark rushed to the door. Metropolis U wasn't in the nicest part of town, and the dark streets were already deserted. A few cars passed but he didn't see a sign of Iverson anywhere.  
  
It had only been a few minutes since she'd gotten up from the table: where had she gone?  
  
Clark was puzzling over this, furious at himself for blowing his best lead, when he caught sight of something across the street to his left. A dark figure was disappearing over the top of the old brick apartment building. It moved so quickly that probably anyone other than himself wouldn't have seen it at all, and even he didn't have a chance to get a good look at who or what it was.  
  
He rounded the corner of the coffee shop and saw a narrow alley, with a series of fire escapes leading up to the roof of the building next door. Before he let himself think about it he hurriedly climbed up the rickety metal ladders. The building was only four stories high, but he still felt a little queasy when he reached the roof.  
  
He hated heights.  
  
But on the other side of the uneven tar roof he saw the figure disappearing over the edge, moving with a cat-like leap on to the roof of the next building. With the sliver of moonlight visible through the cloud he could tell from the color of the hair that it was Jenna Iverson.  
  
She seemed to pause slightly, as if to see if he was following, and then disappeared again. Clark rushed to the edge, finding another narrow alley separating him from his quarry.  
  
He didn't know how Iverson could move so lightly and so quickly from building to building, but he was determined to follow. The problem was, the only way he knew to do so was to jump.  
  
Well, at least this time it wasn't a leap off the Daily Planet building. It was only a few stories to the ground: he could probably survive that fall, although he really didn't want to find out firsthand.  
  
He backed up as far as he could and took a running start. For a moment he was soaring.  
  
And then he landed with a resounding crash on the roof of the next building. He lost his balance and skidded a few feet, his back slamming into an air conditioning unit, knocking it loose from its bolts. Rolling to his feet he brushed himself off and continued the chase.  
  
She was several buildings ahead of him, just barely visible through the gloom. She seemed to be going just slowly enough so he wouldn't loose sight of her.  
  
Clark quickly realized that leaping-at least the way he did it--was not a very effective way to travel. Having to back up each time for the next jump wasted time, and his landings were absolutely pathetic. No mater how hard he tried he inevitably landed on his knees or on his belly, leaving a path of dented air conditioners, satellite dishes, and antenna wires in his wake.  
  
By the time he'd leapt onto the sixth building, this one a little taller than the others, Clark was wondering if the pursuit was truly worth it. At this rate he's never be able to catch up to Iverson.  
  
He picked himself up again, but this time something fast moving and solid slammed into his solar plexus, knocking him back onto the tarpaper surface.  
  
It didn't hurt, but it did knock the wind out of him. The elbow jammed into his neck didn't help either.  
  
"You're fast, kid, I'll give you that. But you're too loud and you're too clumsy," Jenna Iverson said, looking down into his face.  
  
She was kneeling on his upper arms, keeping him from moving, and to his surprise he wasn't able to just brush her off of him. He could feel a tremendous amount of strength, more strength than a normal person would have, in her body, pushing him down. He wondered idly if this was what his own strength felt like to other people.  
  
Clark had never been physically restrained before, and he found he didn't like the sensation one bit. But he decided not to see how much force it would take to counter his opponent, and lay still instead.  
  
"How did you follow me?  
  
Clark wheezed slightly in response, and Jenna loosened the pressure against his neck so he could respond.  
  
"I ran."  
  
"Why? What do you want?"  
  
"I told you, I just want to stop Dr. Garner."  
  
In the moonlight Jenna's expression looked almost sympathetic. "And I told you, you can't. Stay out of Metropolis. It isn't safe for people like us anymore."  
  
She released her hold on him, and backed away.  
  
"What do you mean, 'people like us'? What are you?"  
  
But Jenna had already stepped to the edge.  
  
"Don't come near me again, kid," she warned. With another quick movement she disappeared over the edge.  
  
Clark watched her as she landed in the alley below: she seemed to have no problem doing so without destroying everything around her. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, and then vanished around the corner.  
  
Clark sat back down on the roof, feeling a little unsteady.  
  
People like us.  
  
What did that mean?  
  
****************************************  
  
"Wait. Start over," Jonathan Kent said to his son as he poured himself another cup of coffee. "You did what?"  
  
Clark sighed. "I just followed her, only I didn't know it was her at the time. I wanted to see what it was."  
  
Across the kitchen table his mother and Pete were looking at him, wide- eyed, as he related his tale. On the drive back from Metropolis Clark had stopped to call Pete, asking him to meet him at Clark's house and to stall Clark's parents until he got there.  
  
Clark figured they were all going to demand an explanation about where he'd been, and it seemed easier to tell everyone at once.  
  
"You got pinned by a girl?" Pete asked again.  
  
"I told you, she's really strong. Besides, she caught me off guard," Clark said testily. "Otherwise I'm sure I could take her."  
  
Martha shook her head. "So she's as fast as you, and as strong."  
  
"Almost as strong," he corrected.  
  
"What does this mean?" Martha looked at the other people in the room wonderingly.  
  
"I don't know," Clark said truthfully.  
  
"Maybe she's from the same place you are," Pete offered.  
  
"I don't think so, Pete. For one thing, she moves differently. She's a lot more.agile than I am."  
  
"So maybe where you come from females are different from males. You don't know." Pete seemed so fascinated with the idea that Clark felt a little sorry to spoil it for him.  
  
"Dr. Swann was pretty sure I'm the only one here."  
  
Jonathan sighed. "And you don't think she's come into contact with the meteor rocks?"  
  
"No, Dad. As far as I know she's never been to Smallville, and I was right across the table from her and I didn't feel sick." Clark could understand why his father might be inclined to write Jenna Iverson off as another meteor mutation. It was certainly the simplest explanation. But the pieces just didn't fit.  
  
"Besides, she wasn't aggressive at all. I was the one following her," Clark admitted. "If anything she just wanted me to stay away from her."  
  
"Did she seem frightened of Garner, the way Ryan was?" Martha asked.  
  
"No, not frightened of him. Angry, maybe, and a little.sad. Resigned, almost."  
  
"If she's been through what we went through with Ryan that might explain her attitude," Clark's father frowned. "If she tried to get some straight answers and got a restraining order instead I'd say she has good reason to say Garner is dangerous."  
  
"But she didn't say he's dangerous to me; she said dangerous to 'people like us.' She must have assumed I'm the same thing she is. That means there are more of them." Clark was thoughtful for a moment. "And we know from Ryan that Garner's interested in people with unusual abilities."  
  
"Which means Ryan probably wasn't the first or the last person he tried to study," Martha supplied. "How could anyone be so cruel?"  
  
"But that's what you and Dad have been afraid of all these years, right? That someone would take me away and study me," Clark reminded.  
  
"It's different, Clark-we know you have a pretty good shot at defending yourself against just about anything or anyone," his father reminded him. "Ryan may have had special abilities, but he was just as vulnerable to being exploited as a regular child."  
  
"You didn't notice anything strange about her?" Pete asked.  
  
"She didn't have three eyes and eight arms if that's what you mean, Pete. She just looked like a normal woman. As far as I could tell that's what she is."  
  
"You took a big chance today, son." Jonathan sat down at the table with a sigh. "Confronting Garner, and then this person, whoever she is." He shook his head.  
  
"I told you, I'm sure she doesn't want to hurt me." Clark left aside the issue of Garner for the moment. "Somehow I need to make it clear to her that I won't hurt her, either." He straightened his back at his parents' disapproving expressions. "And you're not going to change my mind about this, so don't even bother. This isn't just about Ryan anymore-it's about me, too."  
  
His mother laid a hand on his arm. "Clark, put yourself in you father's and my shoes. We've never had to worry about your physical safety before. But if this Jenna person has the potential to harm you." She trailed off.  
  
"She won't harm me, I'm sure of it. She the only chance I have to get to the bottom of this. I'd like to have your and Dad's approval, but either way I'm going back to Metropolis."  
  
Pete looked expectantly from Jonathan to Clark and back again, waiting for the explosion, but Jonathan only sighed again.  
  
"You know we can't stop you, Clark. Just please be as careful as you can be. Maybe she can give you some answers, maybe she can't. Lord knows I can't give them to you anymore." He fixed his stern gaze on his son.  
  
"But that doesn't mean you can trust her. Remember that."  
  
**********************************  
  
In his office, Dr. Henry Garner carefully unlocked the filing cabinet built into his desk. All the rest of the Institute files were kept in the main laboratory, but those dealing with sensitive information he kept under lock and key here.  
  
Not that the rest of the staff weren't sympathetic about what he was trying to achieve. He wouldn't have hired them if they weren't. But it made no sense to take chances, either.  
  
He carefully removed the newest file, one that had arrived by messenger only the day before. It was thin compared to his others, but he planned to soon have it full of all sorts of useful and interesting information. If everything went as planned he would be able to start work before the end of the week.  
  
Garner picked up his Mont Blanc pen and carefully wrote on the folder's tab, in his precise handwriting, the name of the Summerhill Institute's newest patient.  
  
Kent, Clark. 


	4. ch 4

Clark sat on the front steps outside the Humanities Department enjoying the fresh air. Metropolis University's main campus was a small, green oasis in the city. Students walked back and forth to classes shielded from gloomy skies by lots of trees. If the day had been sunnier, those between classes would be lounging on the patches of grass that dotted the landscape.  
  
"You're really becoming a pest, kid, you know that?"  
  
Clark glanced over his shoulder, not surprised to see Jenna there, scowling at him. She seemed to have an uncanny ability to know when he was around.  
  
"I didn't want to disrupt your class, so I thought I'd wait out here."  
  
The woman glanced at her watch. "It's four o'clock in the afternoon on a weekday. Aren't you supposed to be in school or something?"  
  
Clark grinned sheepishly. "Or something." As she descended the stairs next to him he stood. "Look, I don't want a repeat of the other night, so if I promise I just want to talk to you will you promise you'll stand still?"  
  
Iverson glanced at the other students milling around them, and shot Clark a warning look.  
  
"I'm through with classes for the day: why don't we take a walk."  
  
Clark followed her as she strode quickly away from the main quad. When they reached a more isolated area of campus she wheeled on him.  
  
"Look, kid, if you want to survive you're going to have to learn to be a lot more careful what you say around people."  
  
"I am careful. And I have a name. It's Clark Kent."  
  
"Whatever." She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "This is still about Garner, isn't it? I'm sorry about what happened to your friend, I really am, but there's nothing I can do about it."  
  
"The other night, you said the city isn't safe for 'people like us.' You meant people with special abilities, right? My friend, Ryan, knew things about people, things no one else knew. That's why Garner was interested in him."  
  
"A lot of people are interested in that kind of thing."  
  
"Yeah, but Garner did something to him, ran some kind of tests on him."  
  
"That damaged him physically," Jenna interrupted. "Yes, I know."  
  
Clark looked at her suspiciously. "How do you know?"  
  
But Jenna's attention seemed focused elsewhere. "The telepaths never come through that kind of thing very well," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Something about the way they're wired, maybe."  
  
She looked at Clark in surprise, as if she'd momentarily forgotten he was there.  
  
"Look, I don't know what Garner does to them, exactly, but I think he's trying to figure out how their powers work. 'Unlocking the potential of the human mind', isn't that what he called it in his lecture? Well, to do that he needs subjects. Your friend wasn't his first subject, either. He was the second, or possibly even the third."  
  
Clark took a deep breath. "What happened to the others?"  
  
"Like I said, there's only one other that I'm sure of." She looked at Clark steadily for a long moment. "Are you sure you want to know?"  
  
He swallowed, but nodded.  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
To his surprise she shrugged. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. Come with me."  
  
He followed her across campus to the parking lot, where she unlocked the door of an old Jeep.  
  
"It doesn't look like much, but it runs," she told him as she opened the passenger door for him. "Get in."  
  
Clark did as he was told, hoping they'd be back in time for him to reclaim his parents' truck before the campus shut down for the night. He sat meekly silent while Jenna steered the car off campus and onto the main highway that bifurcated Metropolis into its east and west halves. A light ran began to fall, and the beginnings of rush hour traffic kept their progress slow. Clark tried to use the time to surreptitiously study Iverson out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"This is kind of a personal question."  
  
"You want to know how long I've been the way I am."  
  
Clark raised his eyebrows. "Are you a telepath, too?"  
  
Jenna chuckled slightly, the first time he'd ever seen her amused. "No, but it's the obvious question, isn't it? The answer is I was born like this. You?"  
  
"Me, too. I'm adopted, so I think I inherited it from my birth parents." Clark didn't bother explaining he just hadn't been born on this planet.  
  
"My mother died when I was a baby, but my dad says she couldn't do anything.unusual. He can't, either, so I'm not sure where my abilities came from."  
  
Clark nodded. As they crawled through Metropolis' legendary traffic there was something oddly comforting about being able to discuss his powers so casually, without having to stop every ten seconds and explain something.  
  
"You say you're not a telepath, but you affected my friends' memories. I saw you do it, at the lecture."  
  
"That's different. I can only affect short-term memory. Not yours, obviously."  
  
"But how?"  
  
"I just can. Don't ask me how it works, but it does."  
  
"That would come in handy," Clark offered.  
  
"I don't use it if I don't have to. I didn't want any evidence that I was arguing with Garner, in case he used it against me."  
  
"Don't worry, the pictures are in safe hands."  
  
"Guess I have to take your word on that, huh?"  
  
"Guess so." Clark leaned forward slightly: they'd gotten through downtown, but he still wasn't sure where they were going. Finally, though the rain, he saw a sign on the side of the highway: Metropolis State Hospital, 5 miles. He looked over at Jenna.  
  
"The State Hospital?"  
  
She kept her eyes on the road. "Uh huh."  
  
"That's the mental hospital, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Clark sat back on the torn vinyl seat. The last he'd heard several of Smallville's meteor freaks had ended up here. He hoped he wasn't about to run into any of them. As they pulled off the highway he watched Jenna's expression closely, but she gave nothing away.  
  
They drove silently through the open gates and pulled to a stop in front of the imposing Victorian building. Clark might have mistaken the hospital for a hotel or a school, if not for the bars on the windows.  
  
Iverson stopped the car and glanced over at him.  
  
"Well, are you coming, or aren't you?"  
  
Clark nodded. He followed her out of the car, darting through the rain to the front doors. Stepping inside he found a cool, white-painted lobby. A nurse at the front desk glanced up them and smiled.  
  
Jenna signed them both in on the visitors' log and handed him a pass.  
  
"Here, clip that to your shirt." She glanced at the nurse. "How long do we have left for visiting hours?"  
  
"About twenty minutes, dear."  
  
"That should be fine. C'mon, Clark, there's someone I want you to meet."  
  
They went up the main staircase. Clark had only seen mental hospitals in movies, so he was relieved to see neat, well-lit rooms down the hallways. The patients were dressed in white scrubs, as were the orderlies. Jenna led them to the third floor, where the main corridor ended in a locked gate. Clark swallowed nervously as an orderly unlocked the door and let them into the room.  
  
There were only a handful of patients here, most staring off blankly into space. Iverson gently took hold of Clark's arm and led him to the chair closest to the windows. A young man sat slumped slightly to one side, his eyes focused intently on something outside.  
  
Jenna knelt down next to the chair and motioned for Clark to come closer.  
  
"Clark, this is my friend, Jack Williams. Jack, this is Clark Kent."  
  
"Hi, Jack," Clark said awkwardly. Jack's eyes didn't move.  
  
"He doesn't know we're here," Jenna explained quietly. "But you said you wanted to meet Dr. Garner's other patient."  
  
Clark glanced over his shoulder: the orderly was on the other side of the room. Clark bent down closer to Jenna.  
  
"What happened to him? Do you know?"  
  
"Jack was a telepath, like your friend Ryan. Telekinetic and pyrokenetic, too."  
  
"Wow." Clark looked respectfully at the other young man, wondering what it must have been like to have those kinds of abilities.  
  
"Not anymore, though. He's catatonic." Jenna smiled warmly at the motionless form. "I met Jack when I first came to Metropolis U two years ago. He was an undergrad there. Jack grew up in some small town in Iowa; he'd never seen another person with abilities before. He knew what I was the first moment he saw me."  
  
"So how did he end up here?"  
  
Jenna looked to make sure the orderly wasn't listening before continuing.  
  
"Jack always thought there must be something wrong with him, or he wouldn't be able to do what he could do. He quit going to classes, quit going out-I think he might have been having a nervous breakdown. Finally he checked himself into Metropolis General for an evaluation. Then he disappeared. The hospital told me he'd been transferred, but no one would tell me where."  
  
Clark nodded. "But you think Dr. Garner had him."  
  
"About eight months after that he reappeared here, the way you see him now. I was able to trace his movements as far as the Summerholt Institute. Garner denies everything, of course. The doctors here have done what they can, but." she trailed off.  
  
"After Garner tested Ryan he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. That's what killed him." Clark looked again at Williams' empty eyes. "By trying to push his patients' abilities to their limits Garner causes physical damage to their bodies."  
  
"And to their minds." Jenna laid a hand over one of her friend's, and looked seriously at Clark. "He must be looking for other people with special abilities so he can collect enough data. Now do you understand why he's so dangerous?"  
  
"But there must be some way to stop him," Clark protested.  
  
The woman stood. "How? Jack's in no shape to press charges, and, even if he could, we've got no proof of what happened. No one at the Institute will testify against him-they're all too well paid. Garner's as good as untouchable."  
  
Clark allowed himself to think-just for a split-second-about forcing a confession out of Garner. But of course he couldn't do that without revealing his own powers.  
  
"It's 5PM--visiting time's over, folks," the burly orderly said from across the room.  
  
"All right," Jenna nodded. She patted Williams' hand one more time before carefully laying it back in his lap. "I'll come back and see you next week, ok?"  
  
As she stood, Clark wondered awkwardly what he should say.  
  
"It was nice to meet you, Jack. I hope you get better," he finally said.  
  
The orderly let them out through the gate, locking it firmly behind them.  
  
Neither of them saw Jack's eyes shift ever so slightly to the right, watching them leave.  
  
********************************************  
  
As he pulled out of the university parking lot Clark drove as carefully as he could. The rain was coming down hard now. He had to keep wiping the frost off the inside of the windshield with a corner of his shirt. It had taken them an hour to make it back across town--the city was dark now, and the headlights of Jenna' car had already disappeared around the corner.  
  
He tried to keep his mind focused on his driving, but every time he thought about Jack Williams' lifeless, doll-like eyes he shuddered involuntarily. He wasn't sure which was worse: to develop a fatal tumor, or to be trapped inside a mind that no longer worked.  
  
And it certainly seemed now that Jenna was right about one thing. There probably had been other patients at the Summerholt Institute, patients who were now dead, or carefully tucked away in some secure facility where no one would know what had happened to them. First thing in the morning he would call Chloe and Pete, see if the three of them couldn't look deeper into the Institute. If they could locate even one more former patient, they might have enough to convince Metropolis police to re-open their investigation.  
  
In front of him a sedan suddenly turned right, and Clark had to brake hard to keep from hitting it. On the slick pavement the truck fishtailed and skidded. For a moment Clark though he was going to hit a lamppost, but finally the brakes grabbed and brought the truck to a stop.  
  
For a moment Clark left the engine running and took a deep breath. Through the cloudy windshield he could see that the right front end of the truck was up on the curb. Judging from the angle, though, he had a nasty suspicion he'd popped a tire.  
  
He grabbed his brown jacket, tugging it on and pulling it slightly over his head as he got out. He was only a few blocks from the university, not far from the coffee shop where he'd first encountered Jenna Iverson. The streets were empty.  
  
Sure enough the tire was flat. Clark sighed. He was definitely not having a good day. Thankfully his dad always carried a full-size spare in the bed of the truck, along with a jack, which of course Clark didn't need.  
  
"Hey, pal, need a hand?"  
  
Clark glanced up: a man was coming down the block toward him.  
  
"No, thanks, just a flat. I'll fix it in a jiff." Clark hoped the guy wasn't going to hang around and try to be helpful-then he'd have to get out the jack and go through a whole performance to make changing a tire look difficult.  
  
The other man smiled.  
  
"You sure were lucky there. You could have gotten hurt."  
  
"Yeah, but 'all's well that end's well,' right?" Clark felt a prick of uneasiness in his spine, but tried to smile.  
  
"If you say so, Mr. Kent."  
  
"How did you.?"  
  
Suddenly Clark was struck with a blinding pain. He staggered back into the street and fell backwards. The air was being crushed out of his lungs; hot stabs of pain pierced every muscle in his body as he laid there, raindrops running into his eyes and mouth as he writhed in agony.  
  
There was only one thing in the world that could cause him that kind of pain. As Clark looked up, his vision nearly double, he saw the man standing near him holding a small metal case, small enough to fit in his coat pocket, where he'd obviously been hiding it.  
  
Nestled neatly inside, and now gleaming menacingly in the light, was a green meteor rock.  
  
Clark tried to pull himself backwards, away from the source of his suffering, but there wasn't enough strength left in his arms to do so. He was completely helpless.  
  
The man now stood over him, and Clark looked up. The streetlight created a halo around the stranger's head.  
  
"What do you want from me?"  
  
Reaching into his pocket again, the other man only smiled slightly. He withdrew a narrow cylinder, which opened to reveal a hypodermic needle.  
  
"Me? I don't want anything from you. I'm just doing my job."  
  
Clark could see the contents of the hypodermic glowing green, the same green as the chunk of meteorite in his assailant's other hand.  
  
He knew what was coming, but he still couldn't help but scream when the needle swung downwards and punched through his shirt into the muscle tissue just below his shoulder.  
  
Clark had thought he'd already experienced the worst torture exposure to the rocks could inflict.  
  
He'd been wrong. 


	5. ch 5

The pain was incredible. Unlike anything Clark had every experienced before. He could no longer see, no longer hear. Nothing was real except the searing agony, as if every molecule in his body had absorbed the meteor rock and was now trying to destroy itself.  
  
He tried hard to cling to consciousness, knowing he had to fight, had to do something. But his brain couldn't formulate any coherent commands to get his limbs moving.  
  
Dimly he could feel himself being half-lifted, half-dragged up and over a hard surface and then onto rough carpeting. His head struck the edge of something, and he could feel a warm trickle of blood start flowing down the side of his face. The meteor rocks had made him vulnerable to injury again, as vulnerable as any human would be.  
  
The flashing in his head subsided for a moment, and he could hear his abductors complaining, one criticizing the other for "damaging the merchandise."  
  
But then it was gone again, washed away in the red haze of his suffering. *************************************  
  
"Jonesy, will you quit complaining and get us out of here, please? I don't wanna be here if anyone called the cops."  
  
Jonesy pulled off his black overcoat and tossed it on the floor of the car, next to the boy's body. "In this neighborhood people know better than to look out their windows at night," he scoffed. So far the plan had gone more smoothly than he'd imagined possible: the dumb kid had walked right into it.  
  
His partner Paulie staring down at the kid, an expression of distaste on his snub-nosed face.  
  
"He don't look too good, Jonesy. Remember-we don't get paid if he ain't still alive."  
  
The boy was breathing in deep ragged gasps, and sweat had broken out against clammy skin. Distended greenish streaks disfigured his face and hands. Jonesy curled his lip in disgust, but shrugged.  
  
"We don't know what was in that needle," he told Paulie. "If they've poisoned him it ain't our problem."  
  
But he slammed the passenger door shut and hurried around to the driver's side. The rain was still coming down, and he had to flip on the windshield wipers. The kid's truck would stay where it was until they'd reached their destination. Then he would return and dump it someplace. In the river, maybe. Let them think the kid had drowned, maybe.  
  
He started the car and pulled away from the curb, the driving rain drumming steadily on the roof.  
  
"You hang on to that kid and make sure he don't hit his head again, Paulie," he warned as he swerved slightly on the wet road.  
  
"Would have been easier if we'd gotten an ambulance like I said we should," Paulie complained from the backseat.  
  
"People'd notice that. I'm tellin' ya, it's all going smooth as silk."  
  
In the rear view mirror Jonesy could see the other man trying to maximize the distance between himself and the kid.  
  
"Doc said to keep a close eye on this one," Jonesy reminded his partner. "He could be real dangerous if he wakes up."  
  
"I'm kinda wondering if he will wake up," Paulie told him. "He's a funny color, and he still ain't breathing right. And what if what he's got is contagious or something?"  
  
Still looking in the rearview mirror, Jonesy had opened his mouth to chew his partner out when something landed with a thump on the hood of the sedan.  
  
Jonesy swiveled his head quickly back around to see what it was, and his mouth fell open.  
  
A pair of eyes was staring back at him through the darkness.  
  
Before he could hit the brakes a fist-a human fist-slammed through the windshield. It grabbed his collar and pulled, and for a split second Jonesy was sure he was going to be pulled through the shattered glass.  
  
He screamed in terror and grasped at the hand, momentarily letting go of the steering wheel.  
  
Paulie swore loudly as the car swerved, first to the left, then to the right. The figure on the hood didn't release it's grip, and Jonesy screamed again and hit the accelerator, thinking he could throw the horrible crouching thing off and run it down.  
  
He forgot he no longer had control of the sedan.  
  
With a shrieking scrape the car went up over the curb and clipped the corner of a brick building before rolling to a stop. Jonesy's head hit the steering wheel, and Paulie was thrown violently against the back of the seats.  
  
Smoke rose from the crushed front end as Jonesy stared blankly at the hole in the windshield. His heart still thudded with fear, but in the light from the streetlamps he didn't see anything or anyone else on the deserted street. With shaking hands he wiped blood from his face.  
  
"Jonesy, man, what the hell." He heard Paulie moan.  
  
Jonesy carefully opened the dented side door and half-slid to the ground. Whatever he had seen was gone now. He laughed shakily as he opened the back door to the car.  
  
The kid still lay on the floor-he didn't look any worse for the accident, but Paulie had a gusher of a nosebleed. He stared up at Jonesy balefully.  
  
"Next time you ask if I want to make a quick 25 Gs I'm gonna say 'no'," he threatened.  
  
Jonesy let the rain wash the blood off his face before reaching back inside and trying to restart the car. The engine sputtered, but wouldn't turn over.  
  
"Great. Just great," he heard Paulie moaning. "What are we s'posed to do, call Triple A?"  
  
"Shut up, Paulie." Jonesy glanced one more time around the deserted street. Even though neighbors must have heard the crash there were no sirens, no flashing lights. There was a neat hole in his windshield where the hand had come through, though, and he shuddered at the sight. "Give me your cell phone."  
  
His partner didn't respond. Jonesy glanced back over his shoulder in irritation.  
  
"Do what I."  
  
Paulie was gone. The far side passenger door was open. And the kid was trying to drag himself out of it.  
  
Jonesy swore loudly. He should have known better than to enlist the help of a half-wit like Paulie. Best job in months and at the first sign of trouble the idiot runs off.  
  
He got out of the car again and went around to the back: the kid lay in the rain-soaked gutter, unable to move any further.  
  
"Sorry, kid, but I can't let you get away." He reached down to grab him by the arms and haul him back into the car, but he didn't get a chance.  
  
Something struck Jonesy from behind, and he fell headfirst against the car, splitting open his chin on the edge of the roof. He slumped slowly to the ground, dazedly noting that his victim was still lying motionless on the ground. But someone was now bending over him, someone who wasn't Paulie.  
  
He blinked up as best he could as the person who must have hit him stood over the kid. It looked like a woman, her reddish hair soaking wet from the rain, her strong, pale hands searching for a pulse on the boy's throat.  
  
Jonesy stared up at her, and finally she looked back at him with brown eyes that seemed to pin him in place like a butterfly. He wanted to scream, but his throat no longer worked.  
  
"Don't worry about what to tell your boss," she told him. "You won't remember enough to be able to tell him anything."  
  
Jonesy looked at the woman's eyes, and they looked back. And Jonesy forgot.  
  
****************************************  
Clark lay gasping for breath against the crushing pain in his lungs. He could feel his head being lifted slightly, opening his larynx, forcing in more air, but it still wasn't enough.  
  
"Clark?" A voice asked. It sounded hollow, as if it came from a great distance away.  
  
Gentle hands were holding him. He struggled to get his vision to focus, wondering if somehow he was home safe in his own bed and his mom was waking him up from a nightmare like she had when he was little. He tried to get his tongue to form the word "mom," or even the letter "m," so she would know how glad he was that she was here, but no sound came out.  
  
He stared up, and he saw the bright light of a lamp. The one on his bedside table, maybe? But then a shape formed in front of it, and he saw an unfamiliar face looking down at him. Clark tried to struggle, to get away, but he couldn't. Water was in his eyes and his nose and his ears and he was drowning.  
  
But then his eyes focused. And he realized who was with him. The face was attached to the gentle hands, and was speaking to him, but it wasn't his mother.  
  
Silhouetted against the light he could see Jenna Iverson looking down at him.  
  
"You're going to be all right, Clark," she told him. "I have you now, and you're going to be just fine."  
  
Then the rushing in his ears took over again, and Clark passed out again.  
  
*******************************  
  
Balancing the phone receiver under her chin, Jenna carefully left the door half-open so she could hear the kid if he cried out again. Right now he appeared to be asleep, but his breathing was too shallow for it to be a natural sleep.  
  
"So what should I do now? Are you sure I can't give him anything?" She asked the person on the other end of the line. She listened for a long moment, chewing her lip thoughtfully. As she did so she help the vial she'd recovered from the floor of the car up to the light. The needle tip was broken off, but the liquid residue inside still glowed faintly green. She'd never seen anything like it.  
  
"Whatever you say. No, I'll send it to you first thing in the morning. I've got somebody I can trust with it. Let me know what you find out. Yes, I'll be careful. Bye."  
  
Jenna hung up the phone and carefully wrapped the vial up in tissue paper, which she then hid inside a bottle of over-the-counter vitamin capsules. That bottle would be packed into a small box, and within a day it would be at its destination. And then maybe she'd have some answers.  
  
But by then it might be too late for the kid.  
  
*********************************  
  
Jonathan pulled his dad's old Ford into the driveway of the house. Martha was waiting for him on the porch, her arms wrapped around herself. As soon as he flipped off the headlights she ran down the stairs.  
  
"Honey, it's cold out here; you shouldn't be."  
  
But his wife interrupted him.  
  
"Jonathan, Clark didn't home tonight. Chloe and Pete say they haven't seen him all day. I think he may have gone into Metropolis."  
  
Jonathan swore under his breath but put his arms around his shivering wife.  
  
"Are you sure, Martha?"  
  
"Pete says he wasn't in school, either. It isn't like him to not tell us where he's going, Jonathan. What if something's happened to him?"  
  
"Hang on there, honey. Clark shouldn't have gone off without telling us, but you know how he's been these last few days. We both know he can take care of himself. I'm sure he'll be back by the morning."  
  
Martha nodded mutely, letting her husband comfort her. "I hope you're right. But what if you're not? What would we do?"  
  
Jonathan rested his chin against her soft hair, but didn't answer her.  
  
He didn't have the heart to tell her he didn't know. 


	6. ch 6

"I want to know who's responsible for this fiasco." Dr. Garner spoke into the phone, his voice tight with anger. "You said they were reliable. You said they were the best."  
  
He picked up his gold pen, and tossed it back down.  
  
"No, we're on my private line. Where is he now? I suggest you find him." He slammed down the receiver, and then leaned back in his chair.  
  
Things had not gone according to plan. That's what he got, he supposed, for not handling things himself. He wouldn't make that mistake again.  
  
It was now just a question of waiting for his next opportunity.  
  
***************************************  
  
"Yes, I understand. Thank you for calling, officer." Jonathan hung up the receiver and glanced over at his wife. Martha was sitting at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea long since gone cold.  
  
"Jonathan, what is it? You have to tell me."  
  
He ran a hand through his sandy hair. "The Metropolis P.D. found our truck, abandoned on the street. The keys weren't in it, but it had a flat tire."  
  
"Then maybe Clark just got delayed."  
  
"Honey, I don't want to say this, but we both know a flat tire wouldn't slow Clark down for more than a moment."  
  
He and his wife had taken turns sitting up all night, waiting for the truck to pull in to the driveway, for their son to come home. And he hadn't. Jonathan desperately wanted another cup of coffee, but he'd already had half a dozen cups and his nerves were jangling.  
  
He'd always believed it was his responsibility, as head of the family, to be the strong one, to hold them together. But lately things seemed to be spiraling out of control, and he didn't know what to do.  
  
If Clark was in trouble, he would do anything in his power to help. But first he had to find Clark. There was no telling where he might be.  
  
Martha looked up hopefully at the sound of tires crunching gravel, but Jonathan, looking out the window, shook his head.  
  
"It's just, Pete, hon."  
  
Pete Ross bounded up the porch stairs two at a time.  
  
"I canvassed everyone who was at the Talon this early-no one's seen Clark, and Lana says he wasn't in at all yesterday."  
  
Martha stood. "Pete, let me fix you some breakfast."  
  
But Pete held up a hand. "That's OK, Mrs. Kent, I grabbed something at home. Thanks anyway." He looked hopefully at his best friend's father, who filled him in on the news from Metropolis.  
  
"So what should we do now? I mean, I know Clark's, uh, different, but this isn't like him."  
  
"I know." Jonathan mused quietly while he fixed fresh cups of tea for himself and his wife. "Pete, do you think Chloe could find out where this Jenna what's-her-name lives?"  
  
Pete looked thoughtful. "You think Clark went back to Metropolis to find her."  
  
"He seemed so taken with the idea that's she's, well, whatever you want to call it. I think he might have."  
  
Martha accepted the fresh tea, but frowned.  
  
"Jonathan, I know Clark was trying to play it down, but it sounds to me like this woman could harm him if she wanted to."  
  
Jonathan could see his wife was trying not to show her fear, but he recognized the look in her dark eyes. He went to her and squeezed her shoulder.  
  
"She'd have no reason to, Martha."  
  
Pete nodded. "Mr. Kent's right-Clark said she was more scared of him than he was of her." He glanced quickly at his watch. "Look, I have to be in class in half an hour, but Chloe and I'll get to work as soon as we can. Don't worry."  
  
Martha rose and hugged Pete.  
  
"Thank you, Pete. I'm glad you're here."  
  
"Just try not to make Chloe suspicious-at least, not any more suspicious than she usually is," Jonathan reminded him.  
  
The young man grinned. "I'll do my best. I'll call as soon as I know anything."  
  
Martha and Jonathan stood in the doorway watching as Pete's car disappeared down the road.  
  
Martha sighed heavily.  
  
"I'm glad he knows about Clark, Jonathan. It's one more person to look after him."  
  
Jonathan kissed his wife's forehead.  
  
"I know. Look, why don't you try to get some sleep? I'll wake you if Clark calls."  
  
When his wife started to object he shot her a stern look. "Don't make me call Dr. Bryce."  
  
"You can't-she's at a conference in New York this week anyway. But you're probably right. Just for a few minutes, though."  
  
As Martha headed for the stairs she paused and glanced back over her shoulder at her husband.  
  
"Jonathan, you know there's someone who can probably locate this woman a lot faster than Chloe can."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Lex Luthor."  
  
"No, he's the last person we should involve in this."  
  
"But he has all kinds of connections."  
  
Jonathan grimaced. "Legal and otherwise."  
  
"What difference does it make if we get Clark back safe and sound?"  
  
"Martha, let's wait and see what Pete and Chloe turn up. OK?"  
  
It was Martha's turn to look stern.  
  
"But if they don't find something soon we'll talk to Lex. We don't have to tell him everything-just what he needs to know. Promise me, Jonathan."  
  
He sighed, but nodded.  
  
"All right." ********************************  
  
Chloe looked over the top of her green I-Mac.  
  
"Pete, what's wrong with you? Why do you keep pacing like that? You're making me nervous."  
  
Pete looked sheepish.  
  
"Sorry, Clo. Guess I'm just kinda high strung today. Must have been that double mocha I had at the Talon this morning. So, have you got anything?"  
  
"Patience is a virtue, my friend."  
  
He snorted. "Yeah, right, when did you ever believe that?"  
  
"Well, I've got an email address and an office phone number for the elusive Ms. Iverson. There's no answer at the office; she must take Fridays off."  
  
"How about a home address?"  
  
Chloe shook her head. "I'll have to go to some of my connections for that."  
  
"Wait-if she ordered a ticket to the Future tech lecture."  
  
Scrunching her shoulders, Chloe smiled apologetically.  
  
"Sorry, I already checked-sent to her care of the Philosophy Department."  
  
"Damn."  
  
"So, do you want me to call my source at the Planet? He's be the best place to start."  
  
Pete waved a hand absently.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, go ahead. The sooner the better."  
  
But Chloe frowned.  
  
"Look, Pete, if it was Clark asking all this stuff I'd understand. But why do you want to know?" Her eyebrows lifted. "I can't help but notice Clark hasn't been around today-or yesterday either. What do you know that I don't?"  
  
Pete ran his hands over his face.  
  
"Look, Chloe, I can't tell you right now, ok? But believe me, I need to know how to find Jenna Iverson. Now we can stand here talking about it all day or you can help me. Which will it be?"  
  
Chloe, taken aback a bit by Pete's vehemence, opened her mouth the protest. But at the expression on her friend's face she changed her mind.  
  
"OK. I'll make some phone calls."  
  
**************************************  
  
"Mr. Kent?"  
  
From an open window a cool evening breeze stirred the kitchen curtains. Jonathan didn't recognize the voice on the other end of the line. It was female, low-pitched, and definitely not Lana or Chloe. He tightened his grip on the receiver.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Mr. Jonathan Kent?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Martha appeared at the top of the stairs with a basket of laundry- Clark's laundry--and he waved to her to come quickly. In a flash she was across the room and pushing close to listen.  
  
"Who are you?" Jonathan asked. "Where's my son?"  
  
There was pause on the other end.  
  
"That's a very long story, Mr. Kent, one I'm afraid I don't have time to tell you just now."  
  
"Where's our son?" Martha repeated loudly.  
  
"He's all right. I wanted to let you know that."  
  
"Then why hasn't he come home?"  
  
"He can't, not just yet."  
  
Martha squeezed her husband's arm.  
  
"Is he hurt?"  
  
"I told you it's a long story. I'll bring him home as soon as I can."  
  
Jonathan tried to loosen his grip on the phone, but found he couldn't. Since he couldn't get his hands on the person at the other end this was the next best thing.  
  
"How do we know we can trust you?"  
  
"You don't. But you can."  
  
The caller abruptly hung up, and the Kent's found themselves staring at a buzzing phone line.  
  
"Jonathan, she has him, I know she does. We have to get him back before something terrible happens." She wrapped her arms around her husband's chest and held on tightly.  
  
"We'll get him back, Martha. She says he's all right. We have to have a faith that Clark will come through whatever's happened. He's come through so much else."  
  
The Kents stood there in the kitchen for a long time, holding on to each other and silently praying that whoever had been on the other end of the phone had been telling the truth.  
  
**********************************  
  
The man in the dirty overalls carefully thumbed the crisp hundred-dollar bill in his hand.  
  
"I could get fired for this, you know."  
  
The other man promptly handed him another bill, of equal denomination to the first.  
  
"Well, I guess it would be all right. It's down this way."  
  
He led his benefactor down the rows of cars in the city impound lot. Most carried the yellow immobilization boot of the Metropolis Municipal Parking Services: those would be held until their owners could come up with the money to pay off their fines. But some of the other cars, abandoned or smashed up or both, would eventually be sold at auction or to the salvage yards.  
  
"It's right down here." He paused before a black sedan, its left front end smashed, one headlight dangling like an eye out of its socket.  
  
"And when did you say this one came in?"  
  
"Yesterday afternoon. In the big storm the other night some idiot crashed into the corner of a dry cleaners over on Second Avenue, and just left the car there. Probably didn't have any insurance, the dope."  
  
He watched as his visitor circled the car, examining it from all angles.  
  
"Look, it's just a Lincoln. If you want somethin' flashier."  
  
"No, this is exactly what I was looking for." The other man paused and leaned closer to the windshield. He carefully studied the hole, about seven inches across, in the safety glass.  
  
"That's something, huh?" The attendant did his best to make conversation. "Usually when a head hits the windshield it doesn't punch all the way through like that. Whoever was driving is probably in the hospital with a concussion."  
  
"Assuming that's what caused it," the man said absently. "The broken glass is on the driver's seat, not the hood. And the hole's about where the driver's head would have been, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"What, the hole came from the outside? Guess that could happen, but whoever did it would have to have been standing on the hood of the car. And he'd have broken every bone in his hand."  
  
"Maybe," Lex Luthor said absently. "Maybe not." 


	7. ch 7

Clark struggled to wake up. His lids felt heavy, but he finally opened his eyes wide enough to see he was in a strange room. It looked like an ordinary bedroom, with soft gray walls and a black lacquer dresser. He was tucked into a wide bed under white sheets, and white curtains stirred slightly in the breeze from an open window. Outside he could see sunlight, and just a patch of blue sky.  
  
He swallowed hard, his mouth dry as dirt. Glancing over to one side, he could see a pitcher of water and a glass, but he was too tired and sore to reach for it. He wondered where he was, and how long he had lain there. His memory seem oddly fuzzy.  
  
"So you're awake again. Good."  
  
Startled by the voice, Clark looked up to see Jenna Iverson leaning against the door jam. She was wearing a black sweater, which seemed odd, because the last time they had met she'd been wearing red. But his head hurt too much to make sense of it.  
  
He opened his mouth. "Water," he said feebly. Even to his own ears his voice sounded like it belonged to an old man.  
  
"Thirsty, huh? That must be a good sign."  
  
She sat on the edge of the bed and poured him a glass, holding his head so he could drink the blessedly cool liquid.  
  
When his thirst was sated, he frowned up at her.  
  
"How long have I been here?"  
  
"Don't you remember? Almost three days."  
  
"Three days?" He croaked.  
  
"It was late Thursday night when I brought you here. It's Sunday now."  
  
Clark tried to remember, but everything seemed a blur.  
  
"Have I been running a fever?" That was the one illness he could relate to, having had one for the first time in his life a few weeks before.  
  
"Off and on. One minute you'd be burning up, and the next freezing." She gestured at the pile of blankets and quilts at the foot of the bed. "I think whatever they gave you affected your body's internal thermostat, so to speak."  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"I thought it would be best if we hid out until I figure out who's after you. This is the apartment of one of my professors: he's on sabbatical in Germany and I've been looking after it. You should be thankful, because it's way nicer than my place."  
  
This was more words than he'd ever heard Jenna string together in one sitting, and Clark had to smile slightly. His smiled quickly faded, though, and he tried to sit up.  
  
"Mom and Dad-I have to let them know where I am."  
  
She quickly pushed him down, much to his relief. The world spun slightly when he was upright, but stilled again when he was back on his back.  
  
"I already did. I had to be pretty cryptic, though, and I think I may have just scared them."  
  
"How did you.?"  
  
"You number was in your wallet." Jenna pointed at a nearby chair, where his clothes were neatly stacked.  
  
Clark blushed deeply. With the sheets up to his neck he hadn't noticed he was only in his boxers.  
  
Jenna correctly interpreted his expression and rolled her eyes.  
  
"Look, your clothes were soaking wet, and considering you haven't been able to keep anything down I figured it was safer to leave them off."  
  
"Makes sense," Clark mumbled.  
  
"I haven't threatened your virtue or anything, so don't worry about it," she said testily. "There're more important things we have to discuss. Had you ever seen either of those men before?"  
  
Clark closed his eyes, trying to focus. He visualized himself bending down to change the tire on the truck, the man appearing, and the stabbing pain in his shoulder. He quickly raised his hand to that spot and felt a thick bandage. He opened his eyes again.  
  
"It left quite a welt," she explained. "For a while I thought it was getting infected, but I think it's just your body trying to heal itself. It's not nice to look at, though."  
  
Clark rubbed the spot absently.  
  
"No, I don't know who they were. But they must have been following me."  
  
"Who knows about you, Clark? About what you can do?"  
  
"Just my mom and dad, and my best friend, Pete. No one else." He closed his eyes again. "I feel awful. I've never felt so lousy in my whole life."  
  
"You've been poisoned, Clark. You're lucky to be alive."  
  
"I want to go home." He tried not to sound childish, but he couldn't help it.  
  
Jenna's expression softened a bit. "I know you do, kid. I just wanted to be sure we weren't followed. I think it would be safe to take you home tomorrow."  
  
Clark nodded mutely. As Jenna rose, though, he called after her.  
  
"Jenna? Thanks. I really appreciate you rescuing me."  
  
She shook her head ruefully. "I thought you didn't remember anything."  
  
"I remember bits and pieces."  
  
"It wasn't any big deal, Clark. I'm sure you'd have done the same for me."  
  
"You'll have to tell me the whole story sometime, promise?"  
  
Jenna grinned. "Promise."  
  
*****************************  
  
Jenna glanced in the rear view mirror. Clark was asleep again, wrapped in a blanket and stretched out across the back seat of Professor Gunderson's BMW. She had permission to use the car if she needed to, and she considered this just such a situation. She hadn't wanted to risk going back to the side street where she'd left her Jeep the night she'd saved Clark. Anyway, a BMW had a much smoother ride than a Jeep with lousy shocks.  
  
Acre after acre of cornfields rolled by, periodically interrupted by incongruous housing developments. Truly, rural American at its finest.  
  
The highway skirted downtown Smallville, so she didn't get to see much of the place before it turned back into farmland. She hastily checked the map Clark had sketched for her and turned off onto Rural Route 1, which would take her right past the Kent farm.  
  
Jenna was many things, but she liked to think foolish wasn't one of them.  
  
So then why was she going to the trouble of bringing the kid all the way home when she could have just stuck him on the bus?  
  
Actually, that was an easy question to answer. If Clark had gotten sick again, if he'd started burning with fever and convulsing the way he had that first night, he could very well break someone's arms, or worse. She still had bruises on her forearms from trying to hold him down, and she never bruised. A delirious Clark was definitely a dangerous Clark.  
  
And she wanted to make sure he arrived safely. She wasn't a telepath, so she hadn't been able to determine the motives of the two men who'd attacked Clark. But the fact that they'd know just how to disable him lead her to think it was no random act of violence.  
  
Of course there was the distinct possibility Dr. Garner was behind the whole thing.  
  
That was what bothered her the most.  
  
She was focusing so intently on the puzzle that she almost passed the yellow farmhouse on the right side of the road. She quickly braked and turned sharply into the driveway. The movement jolted Clark awake.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"We just passed under a sign saying 'Kent Farm,'" she told him. "I'd say you are home, kid."  
  
She pulled the car to a stop in front of the wide front porch. The farm was picture perfect, really, complete with a windmill and a large red barn.  
  
"You didn't tell me you lived in a Currier and Ives print, Clark."  
  
Clark smiled back at her.  
  
She opened the driver's side door and stepped out. Their arrival had already been noted: a tall, fair-haired man, his face deeply lined from years in the sun, was striding across the open space between the house and the barn.  
  
He pulled off his leather work gloves and looked at her sharply.  
  
Jenna just looked back.  
  
An auburn-haired woman appeared on the porch, hurrying down the stairs to where the man stood. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Kent-at least Jenna assumed this was Mrs. Kent-had no trouble speaking.  
  
"Where is Clark? Is he all right?"  
  
"I'm all right, Mom," Clark said weakly, pushing the rear door open and standing up.  
  
Mrs. Kent rushed to her son and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him off his feet. She shot a worried glanced at her husband, and pressed a hand to her son's forehead.  
  
"You're cold as ice, Clark. Let's get you upstairs."  
  
Mr. Kent went to his son and took his free arm, helping to support him.  
  
"Hey, Dad," Clark smiled.  
  
"Clark," his father nodded sternly.  
  
With both parents helping steady him Clark made his way into the house. Jenna reckoned that to people who knew the Kents' this would be a strange sight indeed: the parents helping hold up a boy who was taller, broader, and heavier than either of them.  
  
"Don't hurt yourself, Mom," Clark said quietly. "Let Jenna help me- she's a lot stronger than you are."  
  
However, Martha Kent shot Jenna a venomous glance that told her she'd best stay where she was.  
  
"I'm just fine, Clark," his mother insisted.  
  
Jenna sighed inwardly, but nonetheless followed the family to the upper level of the house. Clark's room looked out over the road. Like any other teenager's room it had lots of posters and books and an old computer, this one sitting on a card table.  
  
His parents carefully sat him down on the edge of his bed, and Clark lay on his back with a sigh.  
  
"Thanks, guys. I really just need to sleep."  
  
Mrs. Kent hurriedly gathered a pile of blankets and heaped them on her son.  
  
"Is that warm enough, honey?"  
  
But Clark was already asleep again, so Jenna answered for him.  
  
"He'll probably start running a fever again in a few hours, and then he'll be roasting." When both the Kents looked at her she shrugged. "That's how it's been going."  
  
Mrs. Kent started to unbutton her son's shirt, but stopped when she found the bandage.  
  
"Jonathan, come and look at this." She shot an accusing glance at Jenna. "What is this?"  
  
"Mrs. Kent, you probably shouldn't."  
  
But the older woman was already peeling off the bandage.  
  
"Oh my God," her husband said for both of them.  
  
The site of the injection was still raised and raw, criss-crossed with streaks of green, the same green that had been in the hypodermic. The wound was weeping pale green fluid flecked with red blood, which had stained the inside of the gauze bandage.  
  
Martha Kent had her hand clamped over her mouth, but Jonathan Kent looked over his shoulder at Jenna. His expression was perfectly still, but Jenna could sense he was waiting for one wrong move on her part.  
  
Of course she could have eluded on angry farmer effortlessly, but he didn't know that, and she had to respect their rights as parents.  
  
"I think we should probably let Clark sleep. If we go back downstairs I'll explain everything to you. At least, everything I know."  
  
********************************  
  
Jonathan watched the young women across the table carefully. She looked like any other young woman in her early twenties: blue jeans, wavy auburn hair brushed until it shone. The only thing that might have given her away were the brown eyes, far too knowing and world-weary for someone so young. But if he had passed her on the street, Jonathan had to admit he'd have had no clue what she was.  
  
Of course, living in Smallville had quickly taught him that appearances counted for very little. She had brought Clark home to them, and he was willing, at least temporarily, to give her the benefit of the doubt.  
  
Martha, too, had finally softened and offered the woman a cup of coffee. Now they both sat listening to Jenna's rather incredible story.  
  
"I don't understand-why do you think Dr. Garner is involved?" Martha asked.  
  
"I don't, not for sure. But if Garner is looking for more subjects, he might assume Clark's connection to Ryan means Clark has abilities as well."  
  
Jonathan frowned. "But Clark isn't psychic. At least, not yet."  
  
"But Garner wouldn't know that. Fortunately I don't think he's figured out that there are other kinds of abilities than just mental ones." Jenna looked troubled. "At least I hope he hasn't."  
  
"I just wish we knew what those men gave Clark. They might have killed him, and he still might get worse instead of better," Martha fretted.  
  
"I sent a sample for analysis. We should know in a few days."  
  
Jonathan set down his mug with a thump.  
  
"You did what?"  
  
"Don't worry-there are people I can trust."  
  
"You don't have the right to share my son's secret with anyone."  
  
"I didn't say anything about Clark-just that I wanted to know the contents of that syringe." Jenna frowned. "Look, I didn't want to get involved in your son's life, but I am. What are you going to do, kill me and stuff my body under the porch?" She smiled wryly. "Believe me, Mr. Kent, you couldn't kill me if you tried."  
  
"Jonathan just means that we've tried to keep Clark's abilities quiet as best we can." Martha glanced over at her husband. "By finding you it seems that Clark's gotten into something way over his head."  
  
"Maybe." The younger woman leaned back in her chair and sighed. "I wish I could give you some straight answers, but I can't. I don't know who those two men were, or why they wanted Clark, any more than he does."  
  
Jonathan rubbed his face with his hands. "You say this friend of yours.the one you took Clark to see."  
  
"Jack."  
  
"That Jack can read minds, like Ryan could."  
  
"Among other things."  
  
"And that Garner's experiments caused some kind of damage to his brain."  
  
"I keep hoping the damage isn't permanent, but so far he hasn't come out of it."  
  
"Well, then I suppose we should be grateful whoever made the attempt on Clark's life didn't succeed. Maybe it was Garner, maybe it wasn't, but clearly somebody out there is after my son."  
  
Jonathan pushed back his chair. "Speaking of which, I'm going to go check on him again."  
  
Martha watched her husband leave the room, and sighed.  
  
"My husband's trying very hard to deal with this," she told Jenna as she refilled her cup. "It kills him that he can't spare Clark all of this."  
  
"I guess that's understandable. But, Mrs. Kent, if something like this should happen again.well, I doubt you or your husband would be able to stop it."  
  
Martha nodded. "I know. And that's the worst knowledge a parent can have." She was thoughtful for a long moment.  
  
"Ms. Iverson-Jenna-if you don't mind me asking, how many other people like you are there?"  
  
Jenna raised her eyebrows. "People like me? You mean, freaks? Mutations? Metahumans? Whatever you want to call us? I don't actually know. We're not exactly included on the census, you know."  
  
"But you said your friend Jack found you."  
  
"Some of us are better at spotting others. Look, what you have to understand is that most people with special abilities go to great lengths to hide them. They have jobs, families, homes-what do you think would happen if it got out that there were people around who could do extraordinary things, things no human should be able to do?"  
  
Martha shook her head. "I'd like to think people would be accepting, but from what I've seen of human nature so far, I wouldn't bet on that."  
  
Jenna nodded. "Exactly. So we stay hidden. We avoid each other, like I tried to avoid your son when I first encountered him."  
  
Martha laid a hand on Jenna's arm.  
  
"So you think Clark is a, uh, what did you call it? A meta."  
  
"Metahuman. Hot term in scientific circles at the moment, more politically correct and less scary-sounding than 'mutant.' And, no, I don't think he is."  
  
"So what do you think he is?"  
  
The girl looked puzzled. "I'm not sure. All I know is that my ability to affect memory doesn't work on him. And I've never had that happen before."  
  
Martha sat up straighter in her chair.  
  
"So you can't connect with his mind at all?"  
  
"I didn't say that. There's definitely something there, but I can't make sense of it. It's like." Jenna searched for the right metaphor. "It's like he's Mac and I'm PC. Two different operating systems, if that makes any sense."  
  
"Clark's still sound asleep," Jonathan announced as he reappeared on the stairs. He shot the visitor a look. "And he does seem to be running a fever-I took some of the blankets off of him."  
  
"That's about all you can do. But the fever shouldn't get very high this time. I do think his body is trying to heal itself, but whatever they injected him with is slowing down the process." Jenna twisted slightly in her chair. "I have a feeling whatever turned the substance in that needle green is something Clark's encountered before. Am I right?"  
  
Jonathan and his wife exchanged a significant look, which Jenna instantly recognized.  
  
"Look, I'm not going to demand you tell me who or what Clark is. I realize it's probably best if I don't know."  
  
Martha shook her head. "It's.complicated. But, yes, if it's what we think it is Clark's been exposed to it before, and it almost killed him. Please try to understand, Jenna--Jonathan and I have always been afraid that if someone knew about Clark they'd take him away from us."  
  
"I do understand, Mrs. Kent, but this is Clark's life we're talking about."  
  
Jonathan cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm wondering why you don't seem worried about telling us your story, Ms. Iverson. Surely that puts you at risk, too?"  
  
"I don't see it that way. For one thing, Clark already knows, and I know he'd already told you his suspicions. So there was no point in my lying to you." She folded her hands on the scarred wood table.  
  
"And, anyway, so what if you did tell people about me? It would be my word against yours, and I've got dozens of friends in Metropolis who will swear up and down than I'm quite ordinary."  
  
Martha looked sympathetic. "So you haven't told people, either?"  
  
"Oh, God, no. That's the last thing I need. My father knows, of course. And I've told a few other people I can trust, who either have abilities themselves or know people who do. But that's as far as I intend to let it go."  
  
Jonathan seemed mollified by her answer. "If you don't mind me asking, do you know how.I mean, what happened.?"  
  
Jenna didn't look offended, and just shrugged. "I was born this way. There's no history of unusual abilities in my family, and neither of my parents had any. It just happened."  
  
Jonathan could see his wife unconsciously rubbing her stomach, where their unborn child lay. When Martha spoke next it was with a great deal of tenderness in her voice.  
  
"And your parents.?"  
  
"My mother died when I was a baby, so I don't know how she would have handled it. And my father, being a geneticist, is probably more understanding than most parents would be. He knows I can't help what's written into my DNA. Unfortunately, a lot of parents-and people in general- aren't very supportive. Jack said his parents never said anything to him about it, never wanted to discuss what he could do. He always felt they were afraid of him."  
  
"How terrible for a child to grow up like that," Martha shook her head.  
  
Jenna smiled a crooked grin. "Yeah, well, unfortunately we can't exactly go out there and start a support group, now can we?"  
  
The phone rang, and Jonathan jumped up to answer it.  
  
"Mr. Kent?"  
  
Pete Ross was on the other end of the line, and he sounded slightly out of breath.  
  
"Mr. Kent, I just got in and my dad said you left a message for me to call back right away. Is Clark.?"  
  
"Clark's just fine, Pete. He's in bed now-he's not feeling well."  
  
"Clark not feeling well? Whoa. Do you know what it is?"  
  
Jonathan glanced over at his wife and their guest.  
  
"It's a very long story, Pete-we probably don't need to get into it over the phone."  
  
Pete took the hint instantly. "Right, yeah, I can just swing by tomorrow or something, if that's ok?"  
  
"Of course, Pete. I'm sure Clark would like to see you."  
  
"Great. And, um, Mr. Kent? Can I tell Chloe and Lana Clark's home? I haven't said anything to them, but they couldn't help but notice he's missed a couple days of school, and Chloe's been helping me look for Jenna Iverson."  
  
"I think that would be all right, Pete. Just don't go into too much detail."  
  
Pete sighed loudly. "No problem. Tell Clark I'm glad he's back and I'll see him tomorrow."  
  
"Will do, Pete. Thanks."  
  
Jonathan hung up the phone.  
  
"That was Clark's best friend, Pete," he explained to Jenna. "He's going to cover for Clark as best he can with Chloe and Lana," he told his wife.  
  
Martha smiled. "Oh, good." Then her smiled faded. "If Clark had been missing much longer."  
  
Jonathan approached the table and laid a hand on his wife's shoulder  
  
"But he wasn't."  
  
He gave their guest a level look.  
  
"We appreciate everything you've done, Jenna. We'll deal with whatever happens next when it happens. But Clark's home. And to us, that's the most important thing in the world." 


	8. ch 8

"Clark? Are you awake?"  
  
Clark pulled the blanket off his face. He'd woken up to find himself burrowed in a sea of covers, but had decided to enjoy the cozy warmth for a bit longer before trying to get out of bed. He sat up at the sound of his father's knock, and was pleased to notice the room didn't spin when he moved.  
  
"Yeah, Dad, c'mon in."  
  
Jonathan opened the door with one hand, balancing a tray with his other.  
  
He nodded approvingly at his son.  
  
"You look a lot better this morning."  
  
"At least I'm not dizzy any more. I guess sleeping in my own bed helped."  
  
He glanced down as his father set the tray on the bed.  
  
"Oatmeal? Dad, I'm not a baby."  
  
Jonathan sat down as well.  
  
"I know you're not, but you need to eat something. And oatmeal's good for you, so eat up."  
  
Clark shook his head, but picked up a spoon. His was a little chagrined to see someone-his mother, probably-had decorated the lumpy gray surface with raisins in the shape of a smiley face. He rolled his eyes, but kept his comments to himself.  
  
His father watched him eat in silence for a few minutes.  
  
"Have any of your powers returned yet?"  
  
"I don't think so. I still don't feel right. It's weird, Dad-my powers make me different, but without them."  
  
"You feel strange, too. I know, son. You've had them all you life-of course it seems strange without them."  
  
Clark nodded and rubbed his shoulder. He wondered if the wound had healed yet, if his body would be able to purge itself of the meteor rocks, or if he'd always be like this. Being without powers was one thing, but being so weak and tired he didn't want to get out of bed.he couldn't imagine staying like that for very long.  
  
"You mother and I had a long talk last night," his father continued. "We think it would be all right if Jenna says for a few days, just until you're up and around."  
  
Clark licked the back of his spoon and tossed it back in the empty bowl.  
  
"Good. I'd go crazy if something happened to you or Mom and I couldn't help either of you."  
  
At the sound of a car engine Jonathan glanced out Clark's bedroom window, and smiled.  
  
"Looks like you have visitors, son. It's Pete's car."  
  
Clark stuffed another pillow behind his back so he could sit up straighter.  
  
"Pete's a good friend."  
  
His father, still looking out the window, grinned at him. "You might not think so in a minute-he's brought Lana with him."  
  
"What?" Clark tried to get out of bed and promptly lost his balance. His father caught him before he hit the floor.  
  
"Easy, son, easy." Jonathan helped Clark back into bed. "I won't let them come up here if it bothers you so much."  
  
"I just don't want Lana to see me like this." But after a moment he sighed. "Still, she came all this way to see me."  
  
"And it would be rude to disappoint her." Clark could tell his father was trying hard not to laugh.  
  
He glanced down at his boxers. "Dad, hand me some sweatpants or something, would you?"  
  
Clark hastily pulled on a t-shirt and sweats as his father went downstairs to greet his friends. He smoothed his hair, hoping he didn't look as bad as he felt. If he did, Lana would probably run screaming in the other direction.  
  
He pulled the blankets back up to his chest just as he heard their footsteps on the stairs.  
  
"Hey, man." Pete's smiling face appeared around the edge of the half- open door. "Can we come in?"  
  
"Sure, Pete." Clark tried to look cool and nonchalant-hard to do when he was grungy and sick, but he did his best.  
  
"Hi, Clark." Lana appeared behind Pete. "We thought we would drop in before class."  
  
Lana glanced around at the room.  
  
"I've never been up here before. This is nice."  
  
Pete winked at Clark, who shifted uncomfortably. He'd thought of a couple scenarios in which Lana Lang was in his room, but this wasn't one of them.  
  
"Pete says you were in Metropolis when you got sick." Lana looked at him sympathetically. "Are you feeling any better?"  
  
"Yeah, better, I guess. Although I probably won't be in school this week."  
  
Pete laughed. "Lucky you."  
  
"I can get your assignments, if you want," Lana offered.  
  
"Thanks, that's really nice of you."  
  
Lana blushed slightly. "No big deal. I do the same thing for Chloe all the time."  
  
Clark frowned slightly. "Chloe didn't want to come with you guys?"  
  
Pete opened his mouth, but Lana jumped in first.  
  
"She had to go into the Torch offices really early. She said she hopes you're feeling better and she'll bring you some CDs if you get really bored."  
  
"Oh. OK." Clark was a little puzzled-Chloe was usually the first one over at his house when anything happened. He would have thought she would have at least dropped in to see if he was all right.  
  
"Hey, listen I need to ask your mom something before Lana and I head off to school," Pete said rather abruptly. "I'll come back after classes and keep you company, man."  
  
"You don't have to do that."  
  
"Nah, it'll give me a chance to brush up my Playstation skills." Pete winked again as he left the room.  
  
"I'll be with you in a second," Lana called after him. She shot Clark a knowing look.  
  
"You know, Clark, it seems a little weird that you would go to Metropolis and not tell anyone. I mean, you don't have to tell me, but you usually tell Chloe everything."  
  
"No I don't," he protested.  
  
Lana sighed. "Clark, I didn't come here to fight, really. I was worried about you."  
  
For the first time Clark felt genuinely embarrassed about what he had done. He knew he'd frightened his parents, and risked his own life, and probably Jenna's as well. But he really hadn't thought about the worry he'd caused his friends.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said honestly. "I guess I didn't think, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, well, I guess we didn't need to worry. Clark Kent always knows what he's doing, right?"  
  
Clark winced slightly at Lana's tone.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Right. Always."  
  
***********************************  
  
"So who do you work for?"  
  
Jenna glanced up from the pail of chicken feed in her hand. Even though she'd insisted that eggs came from the store and that was all she wanted to know about them, Mrs. Kent had shown her how to gather them. She had to admit chickens were kind of cute, in a beady-eyed kind of way. She'd even, to her great surprise, volunteered to feed them.  
  
The young man on the other side of the fence was looking at her with an expression of open curiosity.  
  
"So, who is it? FBI? CIA? STAR Labs?"  
  
Jenna dumped out the rest of the feed on the ground and stepped back though the wire mesh door of the enclosure. She made sure to lock it securely, just as Mrs. Kent had admonished.  
  
"You must be Pete Ross," she said as she started walking back to the house.  
  
"I am." The kid grinned widely as he followed.  
  
"Look, I don't know what Clark told you, but I don't 'work' for anyone."  
  
"Oh, c'mon, you must. I mean, you rescued Clark, right?"  
  
"Only because he got himself into trouble." She shot him a warning glance. "I don't want to talk about this with you."  
  
She sat down on the porch steps.  
  
The boy actually looked disappointed. "Geez, I was just wondering. That seems kind of a waste. People like you and Clark should team up, don't you think?"  
  
"No, I don't think." Jenna knew Pete didn't mean any harm, but the conversation was making her more uncomfortable by the minute. He seemed to think she should have some kind of special outfit and a decoder ring or something. And she found that really annoying.  
  
"No good deed goes unpunished," she muttered to herself under her breath.  
  
The screen door behind them opened and closed with a squeak, and Jenna glanced over her shoulder. She was a bit surprised to see a beautiful girl with long dark hair standing there, mainly because the girl was looking daggers at her and Jenna didn't know why.  
  
Pete jumped to his feet.  
  
"Hey, Lana, this is Jenna Iverson. I told you about her, remember? The friend who brought Clark home? This is Lana Lang. She and Clark go way back."  
  
Pete was looking at her rather pointedly, so Jenna cleared her throat and smiled.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Brought him home. Right. He's a nice kid."  
  
"Pleased to meet you."  
  
"Likewise." Jenna wasn't fooled: she could tell Lana Lang was about as happy to meet her as she had been earlier to meet the chickens.  
  
"Well, we'd better get going if we're going to be in time for homeroom," Pete said cheerfully, steering the girl back towards his blue Camaro.  
  
Jenna couldn't help but feel relieved when the car drove off, taking the irritated Miss Lang with it. In Jenna's experience, Lana's expression had been that of a jealous girlfriend, but surely Pete would have mentioned that.  
  
She'd have to ask Clark what was going on between him and Lana Lang. But first she's promised to help Mr. Kent stack hay bales in the barn. He hadn't asked for her help, actually-seeing the size of the bales Jenna had volunteered. Mr. Kent had seemed reluctant to accept, but since they'd put her up for the night she'd insisted it was the least she could do. Especially since Clark would be out of commission for a while.  
  
"No," Jenna said again to herself as she crossed the grass separating the house from the barn, "good deeds definitely do NOT go unpunished." ****************************************  
  
Chloe poked at the macaroni and cheese on her lunch tray. It looked almost edible today, but she really wasn't in the mood to eat anything.  
  
"Feeling guilty?"  
  
She glanced across the table at Pete and frowned.  
  
"What should I feel guilty about?"  
  
Pete set down his sandwich. "Oh, I dunno. Refusing to see your old buddy Clark this morning, for starters."  
  
"Look, like I told Lana, I had to come in early. I had work to do."  
  
Pete just grinned. "Uh huh."  
  
Chloe sighed and pushed away the uneaten entrée. All around them the cafeteria buzzed with laughter, but Chloe didn't feel much like laughing, either. Although she would never in a million years have admitted it, even to Pete, she did feel guilty. But the last thing she had been willing to do was rush to Clark's side. Again. No, she'd been down that road, and she wasn't about to go down it again.  
  
"I'll call Clark when I get home tonight, ok? Besides, he isn't really that sick. Right?"  
  
"His mom said he'll probably be out of school all week. But he seemed ok. Walking wounded, I'd say."  
  
"Well, then there was no reason to rush over there, was there?"  
  
Pete shook his head, and turned his attention back to lunch.  
  
Chloe grabbed the tray and stalked over to the trashcan. She dumped her uneaten lunch and then snatched her bag off the chair.  
  
"I'm going to get back to work," she told Pete firmly.  
  
Yes, work. Work was good.  
  
Clark would be fine; Pete had said so.  
  
And Clark had gotten to see Lana. That was more important to him anyway. And never mind that Chloe had done all that background work on Jenna Iverson for him-no, Clark had run off to Metropolis without her.  
  
She wasn't really sure which bothered her more.  
  
Since the halls were still empty, Chloe took the opportunity to slam the door to her office extra hard.  
  
***********************************  
  
Lana refilled the small bucket with hot water and carefully poured it into the espresso machine. Technically the expensive piece of Italian equipment was self-cleaning, but Lana liked to be sure. The last thing her business needed was to be accused of serving stale-tasting coffee.  
  
Besides, the work made her feel a little bit better. As the machine cycled through the clean water, Lana attacked the counter with a damp, soapy sponge.  
  
She'd sat through her own classes, collected all of Clark's homework, as she'd promised, and even sat through a meeting about possible yearbook themes before going in to work. But she still felt troubled.  
  
As she scrubbed hard at a sticky spot, she had to admit the whole thing was kind of stupid. So Clark had a girl at his house. So what? So what if she was pretty and tall and Pete said she'd been taking care of Clark.  
  
That is so none of your business, Lana, she scolded herself. He's not your boyfriend. Besides, Clark's parents are there, and there's no way Mr. and Mrs. Kent would let any hanky-panky go on under their roof.  
  
Hanky panky. Lana shook her head. Great. Now she sounded like Aunt Nell.  
  
"Careful, Lana-you'll scrub right through that imported tile if you're not careful."  
  
She looked up to find Lex standing there.  
  
"Oh, hey, Lex. Just doing a little spring cleaning."  
  
"This time of year?" Lex's smiled was bemused.  
  
Lana grabbed the carafe full of water from the espresso machine and dumped it into the sink.  
  
"It's a good way to work out my frustrations."  
  
"Really. Considering my father showed up this morning I'll have to remember that."  
  
Lana had to smile. The whole town knew about Lex's problems with his father. But she knew perfectly well her boss had never picked up a sponge in his life, and that he wasn't about to start now.  
  
"Can I get you anything? The espresso machine's being cleaned but I could make you an iced latte. Or some tea."  
  
Lex shuddered slightly. "Tea is a little too reminiscent of my boarding school days. Iced coffee would be fine, though. Actually, I was wondering if you've heard from Clark lately. I haven't seen him around."  
  
"Pete and I saw him this morning. He's been out sick all week."  
  
"Really. I didn't think Clark got sick."  
  
"No, he got really sick last month, remember? When Mrs. Kent was in the hospital?"  
  
"Besides that, I mean."  
  
Lana got the pitcher of iced coffee out the minifridge under the counter and filled two mugs halfway with milk. Then she added the coffee and pushed one across the clean counter to Lex.  
  
"It's the dumbest thing, really," Lana told him as she poured sugar into her own drink. "Apparently he went in to Metropolis with telling anyone. He got sick there, and some friend of his had to take care of him."  
  
Lex sipped his drink thoughtfully. "I didn't know Clark knew anyone in Metropolis."  
  
"I didn't either," Lana sighed, as bit more wistfully than she'd intended.  
  
Lex picked up on her tone instantly. "I take it this 'friend' of Clark's is female?"  
  
Lana immediately corrected herself. "I don't think Jenna's that kind of friend. The Kent's are letting her stay with them."  
  
Lex raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Jenna?"  
  
"Yeah, Jenna, uh," Lana laughed. "Sorry, I forgot her last name. Robertson, or something like that."  
  
"Iverson?"  
  
It was Lana's turn to raise her eyebrows. "That's it. Do you know her?"  
  
"I know of her." He smiled sympathetically at her. "I wouldn't worry about it, Lana-you're probably right that she's not his girlfriend."  
  
Lana quickly turned to put the milk away.  
  
"Of course she's not. She's twenty-one if she's a day. Besides, it isn't any of my business."  
  
"If you say so, Lana," Lex shrugged.  
  
Lana rolled her eyes. Lex had always had a thing about trying to push her and Clark together. Granted, there had been a few moments where she'd thought she'd really connected with Clark, but the timing had just never worked out.  
  
Her boss was still watching her with that knowing look of his, so she made sure to smile.  
  
"I'm going to go back to the kitchen and get to work on refrigerator. There's some things in there the Department of Health probably shouldn't see. Holler if you need anything else."  
  
She left Lex standing at the counter.  
  
**********************************  
  
"Clark, are you sure you don't want more soup? Or I can fix you a grilled cheese if you'd like."  
  
"Mom, stop fussing: I'm not that hungry," Clark protested feebily.  
  
After spending most of the morning in bed he'd gotten bored enough to haul himself downstairs. Fortunately Jenna had been there to support his weight as he moved so he didn't fall. Clark had camped out on the couch in front of the television until Pete had gotten out of classes: then the two of them had played cards and video games to kill time.  
  
Clark could tell Pete wanted to see Jenna again, maybe grill her some more about her abilities. But fortunately for her right after lunch Jenna had driven into Metropolis for a change of clothes and her toothbrush. Jonathan had gone with her to finally retrieve the family truck from the impound lot.  
  
Clark still found it a little surprising his parents were willing to let her stay, but he had to admit he was more relieved than he had let on. All night he'd had these vague, menacing nightmares about dark figures chasing him down long corridors.  
  
He didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid. Afraid of what was going to happen to him. Afraid of what might happen to his family if those men showed up again. Did regular people feel like this all the time? How did they get on with their lives? The one time he's temporarily lost his powers he'd actually kind of enjoyed being a normal teenager for a change. But being sick? What Pete had always said about it was true--it really sucked.  
  
Now with his parents and Jenna at the dinner table Clark tried hard to push all of those feelings away and be cheerful.  
  
"Anyway, I went back to my apartment to check my messages and everything looked normal there. And my Jeep was where I had left it," Jenna was explaining, "so I don't think whoever went after Clark is on to me."  
  
"Are you sure those two men won't suddenly remember you?" Martha asked as she passed the salad.  
  
"Nope. That's how it works. They're probably still trying to figure out what they were doing in that part of town in the pouring rain."  
  
"It's like that old radio show," Jonathan nodded.  
  
Clark looked at his father. "Uh, care to enlighten the rest of us?"  
  
"Your grandfather loved it when he was a kid, so one Christmas I bought him the series on tape. 'Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows.' That was his power-clouding men's minds. Like Jenna here can do."  
  
"I like to think I'm not so melodramatic about it," she protested.  
  
"Wasn't that a crappy movie with Alec Baldwin?" Clark asked.  
  
"One of the Baldwins, anyway," Jenna nodded.  
  
Headlight swept through the darkened windows, and Jonathan stood up to look out the kitchen window.  
  
"Who is it, honey?" Martha asked.  
  
Jonathan frowned. "I don't know-I don't recognize the car." He shot his son a stern look. "Clark, you and your mother stay here."  
  
He opened the screen door and flipped on the porch light, stepping out into the near dark.  
  
The other three people in the room quickly stood up and followed him. Clark had to admit his heart was beating faster, but whether that was from the exertion or from fear he wasn't sure.  
  
Jonathan looked exasperated when all three of them crowded around him, but he gestured to the silver sedan in the driveway. They all watched as a man in a suit got out and approached the porch.  
  
"Hold it right there, friend." Jonathan Kent sounded casual, but Clark knew the calmer his father sounded the more dangerous he was. "Can I help you?"  
  
The man was middle-aged, medium height, medium build-definitely not a hired goon. But he certainly looked like someone who might be working for Summerholt in some other capacity. The man squinted into the light from the doorway as if his eyesight wasn't very good.  
  
Behind Clark Jenna chuckled. She laid a hand on his arm.  
  
"It's all right, Clark. We can trust him."  
  
Martha looked over at the young woman.  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
Jenna smiled.  
  
"Because he's my father." 


	9. ch 9

"You should have called first, Dad," Jenna scolded. "You just about gave Mr. Kent a heart attack."  
  
Dr. Robert Iverson certainly didn't look like Clark's had imagined he would. He had assumed someone so well known in scientific circles would be somehow grander-like Dr. Garner with his sharp suits, or Lionel Luthor with his mane of hair. With his deeply lined eyes, sandy, graying hair, and gentle smile Iverson really looked much more like what he was: a retired college professor.  
  
Sitting on the Kent's living room sofa, he turned that gentle smile on his daughter, who was pacing up and down.  
  
"Yes, I realize that, but I wasn't sure if I would get here tonight or tomorrow morning." The doctor's crisp British accent had been rounded slightly from years in America. "I was worried about you, Jenna. What have you gotten yourself into this time?"  
  
The man sounded more exasperated than angry. Clark's parents often used the same tone on him. In spite of the man's unexpected appearance Clark warmed to him a bit.  
  
Jonathan, however, did not. He was frowning at the newcomer, still clearly debating whether or not to trust him.  
  
"So he's the one you sent the syringe to?" He finally asked Jenna.  
  
The young woman looked apologetic. "Yes. Of course I didn't know he would hop on a plane and fly out here."  
  
Dr. Iverson turned his smiled on Clark. "How are you feeling, young man?"  
  
"Uh, I feel fine, thank you," Clark fibbed.  
  
"I'd say you're extraordinarily lucky to be alive."  
  
Jenna nodded. "So what was in it?"  
  
The older man shook his head. "Jenna, is this about Dr. Garner? I thought we agreed it would be best to let sleeping dogs lie."  
  
"No, Dad, you agreed," Jenna told him. "And, no, we still don't know for sure if that's who was after Clark."  
  
Martha looked alarmed. "Can you tell us what was in the injection they gave Clark? It wasn't anything poisonous, was it?"  
  
"Not exactly. The needle contained a mixture of several sedatives and narcotics: Rohypnol, Thorazine, Phenobarbital, all at extraordinarily high dosages. Mixed with that was an element I haven't been able to identify yet. I'd say whoever concocted it was simply gambling on the combination producing the desired effect."  
  
Jenna sat down next to her father.  
  
"And the unknown substance is what turned it green?"  
  
"I believe so."  
  
Jonathan shot his son a warning glance and then turned his attention back to the doctor.  
  
"Look, Dr. Iverson, we do appreciate what Jenna did for Clark, and we know you're just trying to help, but this really isn't any of your business."  
  
"Dad, come on." Clark chided. He laid a hand on own his injured shoulder again. "I want to know."  
  
Iverson, however, nodded.  
  
"Believe me, I understand your reluctance, Mr. Kent, and you are entitled to it. But I simply didn't want to sit at home and wait. Whoever you're dealing with has access to some very dangerous chemicals, and obviously is not above using them. Ever since Jack Williams reappeared my daughter had been convinced that Dr. Garner was behind his injuries. I'll admit I wasn't sure what to make of it. But now." He shook his head.  
  
Martha sat down on the doctor's other side and shot her husband a reproving glance.  
  
"You worry about Jenna the way we worry about Clark," Martha said gently. "She rescued him, you know. She did a very brave thing-not everyone would have gotten involved."  
  
Dr. Iverson sighed and rubbed his eyes. Clearly he had already heard the story and wasn't exactly happy about it.  
  
Clark couldn't help but wonder if his parents got that same resigned look on their faces whenever he sped off to save someone. He knew they would never stand in his way, but he'd never really thought about how much worry his actions-even his heroic ones--must cause them. Having an indestructible kid clearly didn't make parents any less prone to worrying about him. Or her.  
  
The doctor laid a hand on the side of his daughter's auburn head. "I know Jenna meant well," he said simply.  
  
Jenna didn't seem too happy with this evaluation. "I couldn't just leave him there, Dad. It's not like I wanted to crash into that windshield and freak everyone out for fun."  
  
"Of course not," he soothed. But he still had that resigned look on his face.  
  
Martha laid a hand on Clark's arm.  
  
"Clark, would you let Dr. Iverson take a look at the wound?"  
  
Clark nodded, but Jonathan held up a hand.  
  
"Wait a second, here, Martha. We don't know anything about this guy." He glanced over at the other man. "No offense."  
  
"None taken."  
  
"Jonathan, right now Clark's health is more important than keeping secrets," Martha told him firmly. "I want the doctor to took at it. Maybe he'll have some idea what is happening to Clark's body."  
  
Seeing a stubborn expression fix itself on his father's face, Clark hastily intervened.  
  
"It's OK, Dad. I want him to. I don't want to stay like this forever."  
  
Jonathan looked from his wife to his son and back again. Finally he sighed.  
  
"All right then."  
  
The doctor sat Clark in a kitchen chair where the light from an overhead fixture was stronger.  
  
"If it makes you feel any better, Mr. Kent," Iverson said, scrubbing his hands with soap and water while Clark unbuttoned his shirt, "my second Ph.D. is in biochemistry, so I do know a fair bit about physiology. Of course the only patient I've ever treated is my daughter."  
  
"Not that I get sick very often," Jenna hastily added. "But we've always figured it would be better not to send me to a doctor for any routine checkups, just in case."  
  
Neither Jonathan nor Martha bothered to point out that Clark's physiology wouldn't look anything like Jenna's.  
  
The doctor carefully peeled back the bandages, while Clark's mother stood by with fresh gauze to recover the wound.  
  
"It looks like it's healed a bit since yesterday," Jonathan offered.  
  
Clark couldn't see the wound too clearly out of the corner of his eye, but he could tell by the expression on his mother's face that it still looked pretty bad.  
  
Dr. Iverson probed carefully at it with the edges of his fingers, and Clark couldn't help but wince slightly. Normally he couldn't feel pain at all, but the meteor rocks had done their job on the tissue surrounding the wound.  
  
"Puncture wounds are always slow to heal-this one is quite deep," Iverson told them in passing as he concentrated on his work.  
  
The others waited silently for several minutes, until impatience got the better of Jenna and she spoke up.  
  
"Well?"  
  
Iverson sat back in his chair. "It looks to me like Clark's body is trying to reject the substance given to him. That would explain the alternating fevers and chills. See here, where the veins have risen to the surface? Again, probably an allergic reaction of some kind."  
  
Clark forgot about being careful. "But I've never been this sick before."  
  
The doctor smiled sympathetically. "Yes, but I daresay you've never had the substance injected subcutaneously before, either."  
  
"So the only reason those other chemicals worked on Clark is because the first one weakened him?" Jonathan surmised.  
  
"That would be my guess." Iverson took the gauze and a clean bandage from Martha and neatly taped them back over the wound. "Unfortunately I can't give your son a timeline for when he'll be back to normal. It could be several more days-it could be weeks. It all depends on how rapidly his body metabolizes the foreign substance."  
  
Clark sighed. It was not the news he had hoped for.  
  
His mother tried to smile.  
  
"Then you just need some more time to rest and build your strength back up, Clark. You'll be good as new in a few days."  
  
No one tried to correct Martha Kent's diagnosis.  
  
*******************************************  
  
Jonathan swung the hale bale over the fence into the stall and brushed off his gloves. As always he found comfort in the regular routine of the farm. No matter what happened in life, there were always cows needing to be milked and corn needing to be planted.  
A lot of people said that was exactly what they couldn't stand about farm life. But Jonathan found that sometimes work was the only thing that kept his mind from racing.  
  
He refilled the animals' troughs with water, and then stepped back outside into the fresh air. The sun had only just come up, and dew still lay thickly on the grass. He hadn't slept a wink the night before, and his back had already started to nag at him, but he still looked at the neat farmyard with a proud smile. It wasn't a lot, but it was his.  
  
As he walked back to the house he was surprised to see Dr. Iverson sitting on the porch, a mug of coffee held between his hands. He smiled politely at Jonathan, and Jonathan felt obliged to nod in greeting.  
  
"Didn't expect to see you up and around so early. Thought you academics slept in."  
  
"We generally do, but I've since I've retired I find myself getting up earlier and earlier. And I didn't sleep very well last night."  
  
"Neither did I." Jonathan stared hard at the other man. He hated that these two new people were suddenly involved in Clark's life. Two new people he didn't know and whose intentions he couldn't begin to judge. Still, Clark seemed to want them here, and Jonathan couldn't begrudge his son that.  
  
"I guess we're both worrying about the same thing," Jonathan said thoughtfully.  
  
"I suppose so. No matter how old children get you still worry about them. Mr. Kent, I know you don't want me here. And, as I said last night, I do understand."  
  
"No, I don't think you do." Jonathan looked at the other man steadily. "You know about my son."  
  
"And you know about my daughter," the doctor shot back quickly. "In my book that makes us just about even."  
  
Jonathan glanced away from the other man's eyes, feeling unexpectedly ashamed of himself. He'd forgotten that Jenna wasn't.normal either. Of course it would be only natural that her father would be just as worried about the Kent's as Jonathan was about the Iverson's.  
  
Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck, made permanently sunburned from years spent outdoors.  
  
"Yeah, I guess it does. As long as Clark wants you here, Dr. Iverson, you're welcome to stay. You and Jenna are both welcome to stay."  
  
************************************************  
"Seven of diamonds."  
  
Jenna slapped the card down on top of the pile, looking very pleased with herself.  
  
Clark groaned.  
  
"Man, I stink at this game." He grabbed a card from the second pile, then another, then another.  
  
Jenna laughed. "It's crazy eights, Clark-it's not like there's any strategy involved."  
  
Clark only shook his head as he finally matched Jenna's card.  
  
The two of them were sitting in his loft in the barn. Clark enjoyed the sunshine pouring in through the open window-he'd been inside way too long. This morning he'd woken up feeling well enough to get out of the house for a while, but the barn had been as far as his mother had been willing to let him go.  
  
Dr. Iverson and his dad were out walking the boundary line of the Kent property-Clark figured his dad was probably boring the other man to death with talk about crops and organic gardening. But then maybe someone with Iverson's background actually wanted to hear about that stuff. You never knew.  
  
Clark was a little surprised at how civil the two men had been to each other over breakfast. After they'd left the house he'd asked his mother about it.  
  
"I saw the two of them talking to each other out on the porch this morning," his mother had shrugged as she rinsed the plates. "I think they've come to some kind of understanding."  
  
"Clark? It's your turn again."  
  
Jenna's voice snapped him back to the present.  
  
"Sorry. I was just wondering what our dads are finding to talk about."  
  
"You mean besides their freaky kids?" Jenna shook her head. "Who knows? But I'm kind of glad-my dad doesn't get out much since he retired. Mostly he reads books and fishes in the lake behind our house. Not a lot of human contact involved in either of those."  
  
"Yeah, my dad's whole life is pretty much this farm, my mom, and me," Clark nodded.  
  
"Jenna, do you ever feel bad that we put our parents through so much? So much more than a normal person would?"  
  
Jenna looked at him sternly. "I try not to contemplate things like that, Clark-they give me a headache. I am the way I am, and you are the way you are, and that's the end of it."  
  
"Maybe," Clark sighed. "But I've definitely decided to be more careful."  
  
"You mean like not chasing strange women around Metropolis? Probably a good plan." She studied him for a long moment. "Your dad was right last night, Clark-I think you are getting better. There's color in your cheeks again."  
  
"Thanks. I feel a bit better. At least it doesn't kill me to climb the stairs anymore. I'd like to get back to school by the end of the week, before my homework really starts to pile up. And, speaking of that, aren't you missing your classes?"  
  
"Graduate classes only meet once a week, and I've told the department I have some family stuff to deal with, so it's not a problem. I figure if you're feeling well enough by next week I'll head home to Metropolis and you can get your life back."  
  
Clark smiled at her. "I'll miss you when you're gone."  
  
"Yeah, sure you will."  
  
"No, really, I will. It's been nice having you around--like having a sister. A really, really strong sister."  
  
Jenna laughed out loud. "Whatever you say, Clark." Then she looked more solemn. "Are any of your powers back?"  
  
Clark shook his head. "I tried x-raying the kitchen sink this morning and all I got was a splitting headache. I was able to lift the corner of my bookcase but my back really hurt afterwards."  
  
"Hmm." Jenna held up the ace of spades. "How about your other vision thingy?"  
  
"'Vision thingy'? Is that the technical term?"  
  
"Don't be facetious, Clark. Try."  
  
To humor her Clark focused intently on the playing card. After a moment a thin wisp of smoke curled away from the center.  
  
"You did it!"  
  
"No, not really. Normally it should just burst into flames. It's like I'm running on quarter power."  
  
Jenna studied the smoking card. "Hey, quarter power is still an improvement over no power."  
  
"Clark?" A voice came up the stairs.  
  
Alarmed, Clark looked at Jenna.  
  
"It's Lex Luthor," he said quietly.  
  
So? She mouthed.  
  
He doesn't know, Clark mouthed back.  
  
Jenna nodded, hastily blowing out the smoking card and stuffing it under where she sat on the floor.  
  
"Up here, Lex," Clark called back. Thank God he and Jenna hadn't decided to practice anything else-like, say, throwing the tractor around.  
  
Lex arrived at the top of the stairs, looking cool and polished as always. His long black coat had been thrown casually over a pale blue dress shirt and dark pants, but the effect screamed of expensive tailoring and designer labels.  
  
"Hey, Clark. Lana said you would probably be up and around this morning so I thought I'd drop by." The older man shot an interested glance at Jenna. "Hello."  
  
"Oh, sorry. Lex Luthor, Jenna Iverson. Jenna's been staying with us for a few days, just helping out," Clark explained feebly. He could tell his excuse didn't quite fly by the expression on Lex's face.  
  
But Lex still smiled politely at the woman.  
  
"I'm pleased to met you. I've heard a lot about you. And I'm a fan of your father's work."  
  
"I didn't think geneticists had fans, but thanks, I guess." Jenna seemed wary of Lex, and Clark suddenly remembered the incident at the FutureTech lecture, and that Lex had not remembered seeing Jenna there anymore than Chloe had.  
  
Fortunately for Clark, Lex held out a book for him.  
  
"I know normally you're supposed to bring flowers when someone's sick, but I thought you'd like this better."  
  
The book was a hardbound copy of Nietzsche's Man and Superman.  
  
"Hey, cool. Thanks, Lex."  
  
Jenna rolled her eyes. "Nietzsche?"  
  
"You don't approve of the German philosophers?" Lex asked.  
  
"I don't approve of guys who say the only way to deal with women is to take a whip to them." Jenna glared at the book as if it personally offended her. "Too much Nietzsche has been known to give people delusions of grandeur. Clark, you might want to try some John Dewey, or even some John Stuart Mill."  
  
Lex sat down on the battered sofa. "I take it you're a philosophy major."  
  
"Doctoral student, yes."  
  
"You prefer Utilitarianism?"  
  
"I certainly think it's a better guide to living than old Friedrich there," Jenna shrugged.  
  
Since Clark was out of his depth, he just smiled.  
  
"Well, even if Jenna doesn't approve I appreciate the thought, Lex."  
  
"You're welcome, Clark." Lex still hadn't taken his eyes off Jenna. "So tell me-how did the two of you meet?"  
  
If the line of questioning alarmed Jenna she didn't show it.  
  
"Clark came to see me at Metropolis University. It turns out we both had friends who might have been treated at the Summerhill Institute."  
  
Jenna had succeeding in distracting Lex.  
  
"Really? And where is your friend now?"  
  
"The State Hospital. But if you don't mind I'd really rather not talk about it."  
  
"Of course." Lex leaned forward slightly. "So you might have been right about Dr. Garner, Clark."  
  
"Maybe, but we still don't have any proof."  
  
The sound of a throat being cleared caused them all to look up. Jonathan Kent was standing at the top of the stairs, with Dr. Iverson right behind them.  
  
"I saw your car in the driveway, Lex," Jonathan explained. He didn't look at all happy about it, but Lex stood and shook his hand anyway.  
  
"Hello, Mr. Kent. I just wanted to drop by and see how Clark was feeling."  
  
"That's nice of you, Lex, but Clark is on the mend, as you can see."  
  
Jenna nodded in the direction of the doctor. "That's my father, Mr. Luthor. He says he knows your work, Dad."  
  
"Dr. Iverson, how extraordinary you should be here." Lex seemed genuinely pleased as he shook the other man's hand. "I thought you lived out in Star City."  
  
"I do-I came to visit my daughter," the doctor said simply.  
  
"Well, as your daughter said I am very interested in your work. Your insights into multi-site genetic mutation are fascinating."  
  
Jonathan looked uncomfortable, and Jenna studiously looked in the opposite direction, but Lex didn't seem to pick up on the slight chill in the conversation.  
  
Lex smiled. "You know, my father recently arrived here as well. I believe the two of you were at Princeton together. Did you ever meet?"  
  
"Oh, yes, we met. I knew Lionel quite well, but that was many, many years ago."  
  
Clark raised his eyebrows at Jenna, and she just shrugged.  
  
"I hope you'll consider coming out to the mansion for lunch one day-I would very much like to talk to you."  
  
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Luthor, but I don't plan on being here for much longer."  
  
But Lex was never one to take no for an answer.  
  
"Well, perhaps you can find time to squeeze me in. I'll have my secretary call you. Clark, I'm glad you're up and around-I'll see you in a day or two. Ms. Iverson, Dr. Iverson, it was very nice to finally meet you both." Lex nodded politely at Clark's father and said goodbye.  
  
As his descended the stairs and disappeared through the barn door Jenna exhaled loudly.  
  
"Smooth, isn't he?"  
  
"You have no idea," Jonathan Kent frowned. 


	10. ch 10

Clark stood up and stretched as the final bell rang. A week ago he wouldn't have thought he would ever have missed cramming his six-foot-plus frame into the tiny desks at Smallville High, but he had. Even a pop geometry quiz hadn't fazed his good mood.  
  
His parents had finally caved and let him go back to school, along with notes excusing him from just about everything Martha and Jonathan could think of that might cause exertion. So for once he had to sit on the bench and watch as everyone else ran laps. But that was a small price to pay for getting his life back to normal.  
  
As he stepped out into the crowded hallway one of the jocks clapped him on the back.  
  
"Way to go, Kent," the guy smirked.  
  
"Uh, thanks, I guess." Clark frowned. That was the third time today someone he barely knew had done that. Surely they hadn't noticed he'd been out all week?"  
  
He spotted his best friend at his locker and trotted up to him.  
  
"Hey, Pete. What's going on?"  
  
Pete stuffed away his books. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Jimmy Cage just said, 'Way to go, Kent' and slapped me on the back. Tom Russo and Will Martin did the same thing in gym class."  
  
Pete seemed to be trying to conceal his head in his locker, and Clark frowned.  
  
"Pete? Talk to me, man."  
  
"Uh, well, you have to promise you won't get mad. And that you definitely won't tell Jenna."  
  
"Jenna?" Clark was puzzled, but he nodded anyway. "OK, fine. So what's up?"  
  
"Well, news kinda got around school that there's a girl staying out at your place."  
  
Clark shifted his backpack to his other arm. "So?"  
  
Pete looked offended that Clark was so obtuse. "A girl? A college girl? Long legs, red hair.?"  
  
"Uh oh-Pete, what have you been telling people?"  
  
Pete slammed his locker shut.  
  
"Nothing, I've been keeping my mouth shut and that's the problem. People have kind of jumped to their own conclusions."  
  
Two members of the football team passed them and shot Clark the thumbs- up sign.  
  
Clark groaned.  
  
"Oh, God. I'm totally humiliated."  
  
"Hey, Clark, it's not that bad. At lunch I heard some of the guys on the swim team saying they wanted to give you a parade."  
  
"I'm never going to live this down."  
  
"Live what down?" Chloe appeared behind them, a pile of freshly printed Torch newspapers in her arms.  
  
Clark looked at his best female friend seriously.  
  
"Chloe, you don't believe what people are saying, do you? Jenna's just a friend."  
  
Chloe shrugged. "It's none of my business, Clark."  
  
"Her dad's staying will us, for cryin' out loud!" Clark nearly wailed.  
  
"People will forget about it pretty quick once the next scandal comes along, Clark," Pete consoled. He grabbed the stack of papers. "I'll get this out in the bins, if you guys want to go back to the office." Pete rushed off down the hall before Chloe could protest.  
  
"So," Clark started.  
  
"So," Chloe said at the same time.  
  
They both laughed.  
  
"Look, Chloe, I know you must still be mad that I went to Metropolis and found Jenna without you. That totally wasn't fair of me."  
  
Chloe looked at him with her frank blue eyes.  
  
"No, it wasn't."  
  
"But if you're not still too angry with me I'd really like to fill you in on what she told me. I'll even buy you a soda." He looked at her hopefully. He wasn't sure why Chloe was so angry with him, but her body language made it obvious she was.  
  
Chloe thought for a moment, and then seemed to relax.  
  
"Throw in a candy bar and you've got a deal."  
  
As Chloe gnawed at the Snickers bar Clark had purchased from the vending machines, the two of them sat on the couch in the Torch office. Chloe listened silently as Clark told her what he knew. Not about Jenna, or about the moonlight chase across the rooftops, but about Jack Williams and his possible connection to Ryan James.  
  
"Wow," Chloe said finally as she tossed the now-empty wrapper in the trash. "That's heavy stuff."  
  
"But we still don't have enough, do we?" Clark sighed.  
  
"No, I don't think we do, not for a legal case. Someone would have to testify about what Garner is doing."  
  
"And neither Jack nor Ryan can do that now. Garner made sure of that."  
  
Chloe stood and crossed the room to her computer.  
  
"Jenna said Jack had checked himself into Metropolis General for a psychiatric evaluation before his disappeared, right?"  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
Chloe typed away at her keyboard. "Then someone must have signed him over to the Summerhill Institute. Or else they broke about a million state laws and just handed him over."  
  
Clark leaned over her shoulder as she worked.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, the hospital should have a record of the patient transfer. Or, if they don't, we know it was done illegally. I think the next thing to do is to check missing persons reports for the last few years and see how many other people have 'disappeared' from local hospitals."  
  
"Garner must have contacts who let him know when an interesting patient checks in," Clark speculated.  
  
Chloe nodded. "Probably. I wonder if any of our meteor freaks have gone missing lately?"  
  
Clark smiled. "I'm glad you're back on the case, Chloe."  
  
The girl shrugged.  
  
"Yeah, well, you'd be lost without me, right? Now let's make some phone calls."  
  
***********************************  
  
"Hello, Lionel."  
  
Lionel Luthor glanced up from where he was pouring himself a cognac. "Robert. Sit down. You're probably the last person I expected to see here."  
  
Dr. Iverson chose one of the leather club chairs.  
  
"I'm here against my better judgment, I'm afraid. But your son was rather persistent."  
  
"Well, Lex isn't back yet, so why don't the two of us catch up."  
  
Iverson sighed. "What could we possibly have to talk about, Lionel?"  
  
Lionel sat down opposite him, crossing his legs casually.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure we'll think of something." He took a sip of his drink. "I have to say, my old friend, you're not looking too well. I don't think being retired agrees with you."  
  
"On the contrary, I enjoy it very much."  
  
"Then perhaps it was all of those years spent teaching ungrateful plebeians in a public university." Lionel smiled. "I never figured you'd give up the laboratory for the classroom."  
  
"I supposed I felt I had more important things to do."  
  
"Really. Such as?"  
  
"Raising my daughter, for one." Dr. Iverson stood and glanced around the room. "This is all quite impressive, Lionel. Sixteenth century, isn't it?"  
  
"This section of the house is," Lionel nodded. "You English always know your architecture."  
  
"Yes, well, considering we have a cathedral on every corner and a mansion on every block I daresay we would." Iverson looked out the window at the garden for a long moment. "I wouldn't think there would be much in a town this size to hold your interest."  
  
"Oh, Smallville is much more than an ordinary town. But of course you know all about that."  
  
"The meteor mutations? I've read the reports. I'm not sure how much of it I believe, though. Much of it sounds more like tabloid fodder."  
  
"Weren't you the one who always said that anything is possible?"  
  
"I also always said that mutations are far more complex and much more difficult to cause than Hollywood makes it seem. If you'd paid more attention in our labs you'd have remembered that."  
  
Iverson sighed. "But of course your mind was always far away from the everyday trivialities of lab work. You always said you were going to conquer the world. At the time I don't think any of us believed you, but here you are."  
  
"Yes, here I am. But, forgive me, I should have asked if you'd like a drink? Or do you still never indulge?"  
  
"I still never do." The doctor looked at his old classmate thoughtfully. "But it can't just be the meteor mutations that keeps you here."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"This way you have your son close by. I've always regretted that Jenna decided to go to school so far away."  
  
"My son," Lionel repeated. "Perhaps," he finally shrugged. "I suppose Jenna looks like her mother?"  
  
"I was wondering when you'd bring up Elizabeth. Yes, she does."  
  
"That must be nice for you, to have something to remember her by."  
  
"Lionel, I have no intention of rehashing this with you. Elizabeth was a grown women, entitled to make her own decisions. I can't help it if the decision she made wasn't the one you wanted."  
  
"Yes, she always did know her own mind, didn't she?" Lionel carefully swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "I've never met such a determined woman. That was one of the many things about her I loved."  
  
"If you'd loved her you would have been faithful to her, and not driven her away."  
  
"If I drove her away it was right into your arms, so I don't think I deserve your recriminations. If anything I think you should be thanking me." Lionel set down his glass and stood. "Of course, if she'd married me she might still be alive."  
  
"That's a very cruel thing to say, Lionel. But of course I'd expect no less from you."  
  
"No, I supposed you wouldn't."  
  
When Lex opened the library doors a second later he found the two men standing there, staring each other down.  
  
"Dr. Iverson, I'm so glad you could come."  
  
"The two of us were just catching up on old times," Lionel told his son. "Weren't we, Robert?"  
  
"In a manner of speaking."  
  
"I have some contracts to review in my office. Lex, I want to speak to you later."  
  
Lex nodded. "Of course, Father."  
  
As Lionel left the room Lex studied his guest. His father had been known to reduce people to tears on occasion. Iverson looked slightly pale, but otherwise he seemed to have held his own against Lionel.  
  
"I apologize for being late and leaving you to my father's care. He isn't known for his people skills."  
  
"No, but then he never was."  
  
"Well, then, perhaps we should go in to lunch. I've ordered my chef to begin serving as soon as we get there."  
  
"Fine."  
  
As Lex led his guest down the hall to the dining room he couldn't help but wonder what his father and Dr. Iverson had been discussing so intently. Unfortunately, since Lionel seldom chose to tell him anything he doubted he'd ever know.  
  
******************************************  
Clark was surprised to find Jenna's borrowed black BMW waiting for him in front of school as he left the Torch offices. He was even more surprised to see his father sitting in the passenger seat.  
  
Jenna reached around and unlocked the back door for him.  
  
"Get in, Clark."  
  
He tossed in his backpack and slid onto the leather seat.  
  
"What is it? What's happened?"  
  
As Jenna pulled away from the curb and headed for the highway Clark looked at his father.  
  
"Dad, what is it?"  
  
"Jenna got a phone call this afternoon, son. Jack Williams broke out of the State Hospital sometime last night."  
  
Startled, Clark remembered the vacant eyes, the slumped figure.  
  
"Broke out? How is that possible?"  
  
"It isn't," Jenna told him. "I think he was broken out and then taken away."  
  
"Someone must have known we went there looking for him," Clark realized.  
  
"That's what I'm afraid of, Clark."  
  
From his vantage point in the backseat he could see Jenna's knuckles gripping white on the steering wheel.  
  
"We decided we had better go out there and see if we can get a straight story from anyone," Jonathan added.  
  
Jenna smacked her hand against the wheel. "I can't believe it took them almost a whole day to notify me. God only knows where he might be by now."  
  
"What about his family?" Clark asked. "Would they.?"  
  
"No," Jenna said firmly. "The administrator of the hospital told me they were the first people he talked to. His parents said they hadn't seen him, and they didn't want to see him."  
  
Jonathan shook his head.  
  
"It's hard to believe any parents could be so heartless."  
  
"Believe it, Mr. Kent."  
  
"Dad, what about Mom? Is it safe to leave her alone?"  
  
"My dad's still over at the Luthor mansion but I left a message on his cell phone. He'll go straight from there to your house and wait until we get home," Jenna explained.  
  
Clark leaned back on the seat. "Good."  
  
His father glanced over his shoulder.  
  
"I still don't want you to overdo it, son. You rest on the drive in."  
  
"I can't rest, Dad-I have to tell you guys what Chloe found out." He quickly filled them in while the cornfields zipped by. "So according to Chloe's source Metropolis General's records say they transferred Jack directly to the State Hospital. But we know he didn't actually turn up there until months later. So somebody is fudging the paperwork. We also found records of five more people who went A.W.O.L. from some of the hospitals in the area. Only three of them have turned up since-the other two are still officially missing."  
  
"That doesn't mean Garner's got them," Jonathan frowned.  
  
"He might have had them and then sent them on somewhere else. Believe me, since Jack couldn't tell anyone who he was it looks me months to locate him. It a city the size of Metropolis it's pretty easy for one patient to slip through the cracks."  
  
"That's terrible," Clark shook his head. He didn't want to think about how close he had come to being one of those patients.  
  
He dozed on and off on the long drive back into the city. He hadn't realized how worn out he was after a full day of school but the next thing he knew his father was shaking him awake.  
  
"Clark? We're here. Maybe you should stay in the car."  
  
"No, Dad." Clark got out and followed his father and Jenna to the front of the hospital. Several police cars were parked out front, and a distressed-looking man with a thin moustache waved his arms at Jenna frantically.  
  
"Here she is, here she is," he told the cops. "She's the only visitor Mr. Williams' ever had. If anyone knows where he might have gone."  
  
One officer, a thick-waisted man whose badge read "Tibble," squinted at them.  
  
"What can you folks tell us?"  
  
"Not much." Jenna quickly explained Jack's condition, that he wasn't on good terms with his family, and that she couldn't think of any place he might want to go.  
  
The man with the moustache-clearly an administrator-nodded along with the story.  
  
"She's quite right, officers," he finally added. "I just don't see how it would be possible for Mr. Williams to go anywhere under his own power. He had been in a catatonic state for months."  
  
"Do you know how he got out? Or how someone else got him out?" Clark's father asked.  
  
The other officer, whose badge read 'Jenkins,' scratched his head.  
  
"That's the hell of it, sir. Come on around and have a look, and see if you have any ideas."  
  
The two officers and three visitors walked around the side of the old brick building. Tibble pointed to a window on the third floor, which Clark reckoned must be the same room where he had first met Jack.  
  
The windows over the bars had been bent out at an almost a ninety- degree angle from the wall, as if the bolts had been partially unscrewed. There was more than enough room for someone to slide out around them, but then there was the small matter of the three-story drop.  
  
Clark glanced over at Jenna but she looked just as stunned at the sight as the rest of them.  
  
"Are you sure that was done from the inside?"  
  
"Looks like it, ma'am," Jenkins told her. "Unless someone levitated up there."  
  
Jenna let that comment go. "I just can't believe this. Are you out looking for him?"  
  
Tibble looked mildly offended. "Of course. We have an APB out on him. The hospital is going to offer a reward, and the DA's office might do the same."  
  
"The DA's office?" Jenna frowned. "Why?"  
  
The two cops exchanged a look.  
  
"Dr. Farmer didn't tell you over the phone?"  
  
"No. What?" Jenna demanded. Jonathan laid a restraining hand on her shoulder to keep her from surging forward. "Tell me."  
  
"One of the orderlies was killed last night, ma'am."  
  
Clark couldn't help sucking in his breath.  
  
"Killed? How?" He asked.  
  
"Neck was broken. But so far we haven't found any fingerprints."  
  
"Broken? In a fall?" Clark's father asked.  
  
"No, sir. The body was found on the floor of that room." Jenkins pointed to the broken bars. "No other signs of struggle."  
  
"You must be wrong. I know Jack. He isn't capable of hurting anyone," Jenna said, desperation and fear making her voice husky. "You have to believe me."  
  
"If you have a more logical explanation for what happened we'd love to hear it," Tibble said.  
  
Jenna opened her mouth as if she wanted to speak, but no sound came out.  
  
Clark took her hand and squeezed it.  
  
"She doesn't."  
  
He exchanged a worried glance with his father.  
  
"But we'll let you know if we think of anything that might help." 


	11. ch 11

"Jenna, stop pacing. You're not going to find Jack any faster."  
  
She shot him a resentful look, but stopped walking across the loft floor and dropped into a chair instead. "I can't help it, Clark."  
  
Chloe looked up from her laptop computer, which she had set out on Clark's coffee table. She'd been working away in silence for several minutes, but now she frowned.  
  
"According to the wire service there's still no news from the Metropolis P.D. But Clark's right-pacing up and down isn't going to find your friend any faster."  
  
After the distressing visit to the State Hospital, Jenna and Clark had sat up half the night trying to figure out what might have happened. Both the Kent's and Dr. Iverson had asked them to drop it, to let the police handle it.  
  
Jenna was still convinced Garner was behind the disappearance. But Clark wasn't quite so sure.  
  
First, there was the problem of the bars: the police said they'd been partially unbolted, but bent from the inside. He wasn't sure if someone with telekinesis could accomplish that, but it did sound slightly more likely than someone scaling the building from the outside. As far as he knew, the only people capable of that were Jenna and himself. And since they'd been together all week.  
  
Second, the timing just seemed way too coincidental. If Garner had wanted Jack back he could have taken the boy out of the hospital any time in the last several months. So why would Garner move now?  
  
Against Clark's own better judgment, not to mention Jenna's, he'd called Chloe. He hoped the three of them could put their heads together and make some sense out of things.  
  
Bless Chloe's wall of weird mentality-she wasn't at all skeptical about what they told her about Jack's escape. But so far Chloe didn't know much more than they did.  
  
Jenna ran her hands through her hair.  
  
"I just can't believe this is happening. If anything's happened to him." She trailed off menacingly, but Clark understood. He had reacted the same way when his friends were threatened.  
  
"Jenna, there wasn't anything you could have done," he said gently. "You couldn't have watched him 24-7."  
  
Of course, that was exactly what she'd been doing for him. Clark felt a little guilty about that now. But of course neither of them had suspected Jack would be in any kind of danger. Or would have recovered fast enough to break himself out of that place.  
  
"I gotta admit," Chloe spoke up, unconsciously giving voice to Clark's thoughts, "if I were in Jack's shoes I'd have broken out of that place, too. Can you imagine being held someplace with bars on the windows?"  
  
"If Jack did snap back he might very well have freaked out," Clark mused. "Maybe he though he was back at Summerholt and had to get out of there to save his life."  
  
Jenna looked hurt. "Look, I keep telling you guys, Jack wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone break someone's neck. I've been visiting him every week for months. Don't you think he'd have let me know somehow if he aware of what was going on and needed help?"  
  
"Not if he didn't want to endanger you, too." Clark sighed. "It doesn't make much sense either way."  
  
Chloe rested her chin in her hand.  
  
"Stranger things have happened, though. Jenna, why do you think Garner might have needed Jack again?"  
  
"Because the guy think he's working towards a Nobel. But I'm sure he must need more subjects." Jenna shot Clark a glance, making it quite clear he shouldn't mention his near-abduction in Metropolis. "My dad says if Garner tries to come out with his research now no one will take him seriously-this kind of thing is just way too out there. The only way to get credibility it to have incontrovertible evidence of psychic ability, and lots of it."  
  
Chloe nodded. "OK, I hear that. But, no offense, your dad's stuff is way out there and he's considered an expert in his field."  
  
"Yeah, but there's a world of difference between talking about how DNA might mutate under certain circumstances and saying there really are people out there who can bend spoons with their minds. That's why Garner low- keyed that part of his research in the lecture."  
  
"If Garner does get that kind of knowledge he could be seriously dangerous."  
  
Clark shook his head. Extraordinarily dangerous. And not just to people like him and Jenna.  
  
"Right-what's to say he won't start trying to induce abilities in people who never had them? Who maybe shouldn't have them? I mean, I don't want to get all 'X-Files' on you guys but in this case knowledge is a very dangerous thing." Jenna looked thoughtful for a long moment. "I mean, that's why my Dad quit the human genome project. He didn't want to be remembered as the next Oppenheimer. You know, 'Lo I am become death, the destroyer of worlds'?"  
  
"There's a big difference between unlocking the genetic code and unleashing the atomic bomb," Chloe said. But even she looked troubled by the comparison.  
  
"Look, I'll keep plugging away at my sources, and I'll let you know if anything turns up." Chloe rose and brushed off her jeans. "But, Jenna, I have to tell you, I think Clark's right and it's a lot more likely your friend broke himself out than that someone else did."  
  
Jenna closed her eyes. "I'll be back in Metropolis on Saturday-first thing I'm going to go back to the hospital and see if there's something we missed."  
  
Chloe glanced at Clark with an enigmatic expression he couldn't quite interpret, but smiled at the other woman.  
  
"That's too bad. I'm sure Clark's liked having you around."  
  
Jenna smiled at the girl. "Maybe."  
  
Chloe stuffed her laptop into its case.  
  
"I'll see you two around. Call me if anything new develops."  
  
Clark nodded. "Will do. Thanks, Clo."  
  
After Chloe had disappeared down the loft stairs Jenna shook her head.  
  
"She's glad I'm leaving," she told Clark.  
  
"Huh? No, I'm sure you're wrong-she likes you."  
  
"It's got nothing to do with me, Clark-I'm on her turf." She smiled. "Y'know, for a smart guy, sometimes you can be really, really dense."  
  
*******************************************  
  
Martha hung up her gardening tools in the shed. She saw Chloe pulling away from the driveway in her Beetle and waved. The three young people had been holed up in the barn all afternoon, but Martha felt fairly confident they would be safe. Jenna had had numerous chances to reveal Clark if she had wanted to, and she had not.  
  
True, neither she nor her father had yet realized Clark wasn't a metahuman-wasn't a human at all. Even though the doctor hadn't remarked upon Clark's unusual wound, Martha and Jonathan had decided it would be wise to continue to withhold that information. Just in case.  
  
Dr. Iverson was leaning against the pasture fence. He was watching the cows meander through the grass with a bemused expression on his face, and Martha walked over to join him.  
  
"I never thought the cows were that interesting," she told him with a laugh as she stood next to him. "Maybe I've been missing something."  
  
He laughed. "I suppose I'm just feeling a little nostalgic. I grew up in a little village outside of Canterbury, and the farmer next door kept a cow for fresh milk. Your son is very lucky to grow up out here."  
  
"I think so. But I can tell sometimes Clark gets anxious to be out in the world. Especially considering.what he can do," she finished sheepishly.  
  
"Jenna was the same way. It's been hard for her to learn her limits. Clark will learn his-you just have to give him some time."  
  
"I hope so," she sighed.  
  
After a few minutes spent in companionable silence, Iverson looked at Martha with a gentle smile.  
  
"You can ask me about it if you want. I don't mind."  
  
Martha blushed slightly. "I didn't want to pry. But, well.you and your wife are Jenna's biological parents?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And when she was born she was.normal?"  
  
The doctor's smiled widened. "Oh, yes. I was there when she was born. She weighed eight pounds, two ounces and screamed like a banshee."  
  
"Do you know what caused her abilities to develop? Jenna said it's something in her genetic code."  
  
The man nodded. "I think there are only a handful of people on earth who would recognize it, but it looks distinctly different from other people. Almost as if its been resequenced."  
  
"But how is that possible?" Martha looked at the other man for a long moment as comprehension began to dawn. "You don't think it happened accidentally, do you?"  
"No, I don't." He rubbed his face. "You have to understand, Mrs. Kent, had I known."  
  
"You mean you didn't cause it?"  
  
He looked horrified. "Of course not."  
  
Martha was silent for a long moment, watching white clouds blow across the sky. Then she suddenly remembered something the doctor had said in passing about his late wife. That she, too, had gotten her doctorate from Princeton. Only in biochemistry, not genetics.  
  
"You think."  
  
He stared out over the field for a long moment. "My wife and I had two sons before we had Jenna. Both were stillborn."  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said genuinely, laying a hand on the doctor's arm. "I know what Jonathan and I went through before we adopted Clark."  
  
"We went to every doctor we knew, tried everything: no one could tell us what had happened. I told Elizabeth.I told her I didn't think we should try any more. I didn't think it would be fair to either of us to go through that again. But then she became pregnant for a third time."  
  
He shook his head. "She kept insisting that this time everything would be all right-that this baby would live. At the time I told myself it was just because she couldn't bear the thought of losing another child."  
  
Martha squeezed his arm. "Losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to any woman-to any parent. I can't imagine what she was going through."  
  
Iverson took a breath. "When Jenna was born, and she was beautiful, and healthy, I didn't think any more about it. I thought we'd just been lucky."  
  
"But you think your wife." Even though she understood the woman's motivations better than most people would, she still couldn't quite bring herself to say the words.  
  
"She destroyed any records she might have kept. And then not long before Jenna's second birthday Elizabeth was killed in a car accident. I have to say, I've sat up many a long night since, wondering."  
  
"But Jenna insisted she didn't know what had caused her powers. Haven't you told her?"  
  
"I've tried, Mrs. Kent, but she refuses to listen. Maybe when she's a parent herself she will understand that whatever her mother might have done, she did out of love. Elizabeth saved Jenna's life."  
  
As terrible as the story was, Martha had to nod. "Jenna might not be here."  
  
"It's more than that. Jenna was in the backseat when that drunk driver hit my wife's car. He killed my wife, himself, and four other people on the road that day. But Jenna didn't have a scratch on her. The doctors told me it was a miracle. But maybe it was much more than that."  
  
Martha shook her head. If true, it was quite a story.  
  
"Isn't it strange-how much time we spend trying to protect our children from the truth? No matter who they are and what they can do?"  
  
Martha was thinking of the secret she and Jonathan had withheld from Clark until he was nearly sixteen-the secret of where he'd come from.  
  
But Dr. Iverson nodded.  
  
"Sometimes knowing the truth makes things harder, not easier, Mrs. Kent. For everyone involved."  
  
********************************************  
  
It was beautiful, sunny Monday afternoon, and Clark waited patiently until the school bus was out of sight. Then he carefully looked up the road, and then down, and then back up again. Nothing. Perfect.  
  
He took off running straight ahead into the cornfields opposite his house. As first he didn't move faster than any other boy would. But as he moved his arms and legs, his backpack swinging hard against his back, his speed accelerated until he wouldn't be more than a blur to anyone looking at him. To him, however, everything remained in sharp relief: the rows of corn that stood just taller than he did, not quite ready to harvest; the birds flying overhead in the blue sky.  
  
True, he got winded a lot sooner than he normally did, and he hadn't gotten anywhere near his top speed, but it still felt good to be moving again.  
  
He remembered how Jenna had joked about his operating on "quarter power." Well, now, if he had to guess, he'd say it was more like "three quarter power." The idea made him so cheerful he didn't mind that he had to walk the remaining distance to Lex's mansion.  
  
As he followed the edge of the road he remembered how Jenna had smiled at him when she and her father had said goodbye on Saturday. She'd kissed him-on the cheek, of course-and reminded him to be careful. Dr. Iverson had shaken hands with each both of his parents, and then Clark himself. Clark had been careful not to grip the man's hand too tightly.  
  
"Remember-you promised to tell me more about genetics next time. And Chloe Sullivan wants to pick your brain about the meteor mutations."  
  
He had smiled. "Of course. Next time." Then his smiled had faded somewhat. "Clark, may I give you a word of advice?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I know people like you want to test your limits, find out what they are. But you mustn't let your guard down." As he spoke Iverson shot a brief glance at Clark's mother, making him suspect they'd discussed this subject before. "Remember something, Clark: what you can do, it just makes you different. Not better. Not worse. Just different."  
  
Clark had nodded solemnly. "I understand that, Dr. Iverson."  
  
Now as he buzzed the intercom at the Luthor's front gate he couldn't help but wonder what his mom had told Dr. Iverson about him.  
  
Did he think he was special? As the gates swung open and Clark slipped through them he shook his head. No, his mom and dad had always made it very clear that his abilities didn't make him better than other people. In fact, if Clark really thought about it he'd have to say he'd spent most of his life feeling inferior to other people.  
  
One of the endless parade of Luthor security guards was waiting at the front doors and let him into the mansion. As always the place was about ten degrees too cold, and Clark was glad he'd enjoyed the sunshine while he could.  
  
As he walked down the hall to Lex's study he could hear raised voices. He paused outside the closed doors, wondering what he should do. Before he would make up his mind the doors opened inward and Lionel Luthor nearly walked right into him.  
  
"Uh, hello, Mr. Luthor," Clark said.  
  
Clearly Lionel had been fighting with his son-again. The older man's brown hair was in disarray. He looked at Clark like he was some unfortunate species of insect that had wondered into the mansion.  
  
But even Lionel Luthor could be polite, when it suited him.  
  
"Hello, Clark. How is your mother?"  
  
"Fine, thank you."  
  
"Good." Without another word Lionel strode off down the hall back towards his own suite of rooms.  
  
Clark cautiously went into the study, where he could see his friend pouring himself a stiff drink. That was always Lex's first reaction to a fight with Lionel. If Clark had ever seen Lex drunk he might have worried about that, but he never had. In fact, he'd never seen Lex out of control at all. Unless you counted that first day on the Loeb Bridge.  
  
"Sorry about that, Clark," Lex was saying. "Hope the old man didn't run you over on his way out."  
  
Clark tossed his backpack on a chair. "He almost did, but I got out of the way quick enough."  
  
Lex stared into his glass. "My father has the ridiculous notion that because I invited Dr. Iverson here for lunch I'm trying to hire him. Dad thinks I'm trying to add a genetics subsidiary to LexCorp." Lex smiled ruefully. "Which I'd do, in a second, if my capital wasn't all tied up elsewhere."  
  
Clark grinned. "Iverson wouldn't take you up on an offer like that anyway. He seems pretty content being retired."  
  
"Maybe so. You know him better than I do." Lex frowned. "My father has some kind of personal antipathy for the man I find most intriguing. Too bad Iverson left before I could grill him about it. Might have been useful."  
  
Clark shook his head. Lex was always looking for ways to leverage his father, but Clark doubted Iverson would have enlightened Lex anyway. As far as Clark had been able to tell, the man guarded his personal life closely, just in case it should shed too much light on Jenna.  
  
"Iverson and I did have a chance to discuss some fascinating things. I still say it's too bad he dropped his work for an academic career." Lex walked over to his rack of pool cues and grabbed one. "I mean, how boring is that?"  
  
Recognizing the invitation to play, Clark followed.  
  
"He told me he did it because he was a widower and his daughter was growing up never seeing him. Makes sense to me."  
  
Lex sent him a vaguely pitying look.  
  
"That's what nannies are for, Clark."  
  
Clark racked up the balls. "Oh, come on, Lex, from what you've told me nannies are no substitute for parents. Admit it-if you had a daughter you wouldn't want her being raised by some stranger."  
  
Lex shrugged, and leaned down for the break. "Then it's a good thing I don't have one, isn't it?"  
  
Clark ignored his friend's sarcasm and concentrated on the game. Strength and speed weren't much good when you were playing pool-instead it took a lot of concentration and strategy. Which was why Lex was so good at it.  
  
After several shots Lex smiled at him.  
  
"So I guess you must miss your houseguest."  
  
Clark managed to sink a ball in the corner pocket, so he let Lex's innuendo slide.  
  
"She had to get back to classes, Lex. And Dr. Iverson's leaving for Star City tomorrow anyway, so it made more sense to spend the weekend in Metropolis."  
  
"Still-it's too bad. From what I hear she was doing wonders for your reputation." Lex carefully chalked the end of his cue. "So did Jenna ever say anything to you about what happened at the Future Tech lecture?"  
  
"Yeah, she did."  
  
Clark waited until Lex straightened back up. Clearly he was intrigued.  
  
"What did she say?"  
  
"She said it's not her fault you and Chloe have lousy memories," Clark laughed.  
  
Lex smiled slightly. Clark wasn't sure if he believed him or not, but since that was all Clark was willing to say Lex let it drop. Clark was relieved: if Lex had pressed him on the subject Clark wasn't sure what he would have said.  
  
Lex won the first game, and Clark was setting up for a second one when Lex's cell phone rang.  
  
Lex set down his cue and grabbed the phone off his antique desk. He flipped it open.  
  
"Luthor here."  
  
Behind him Clark rolled his eyes. He didn't know what Lex couldn't just say "hello" like everyone else.  
  
But Lex was too busy listening to whoever was on the other end to catch Clark's expression.  
  
"Yes. Yes, he's here."  
  
To Clark's great surprise Lex held the cell phone out to him. Lex's expression was troubled, and Clark felt a twinge of fear in his gut. His parents had gone into Grandville to buy seed-were they ok? Was it the baby?  
  
Clark did his best to remain calm as he held the phone up to his ear. To his tremendous surprise the voice wasn't that of either of his parents.  
  
"Clark? Clark, is that you?"  
  
"Yeah, Dr. Iverson, it's me. Sorry, but for a moment."  
  
"Clark, are you all right?" The other man interrupted.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I'm good."  
  
On the other end he could hear the doctor expel a long breath. "Thank God. When I didn't get any answer at your parents house I feared the worst."  
  
"The worst?"  
  
A few feet away Lex raised his eyebrows, but Clark could only shrug.  
  
"Clark, listen to me-I want you to go home and stay there until your parents get back. Don't go anywhere, and don't talk to anyone."  
  
"Doctor Iverson, you're kind of freaking me out. Everything here is fine. What's going on?"  
  
For the first time Clark picked up on the strain in the older man's voice.  
  
"Jenna is gone, Clark."  
  
"Gone? What do you mean, gone? Where'd she go?"  
  
"She's just gone, Clark. Disappeared. Like Jack. I don't know what to do."  
  
Clark dropped the phone. 


	12. ch 12

Clark had to admit there were several advantages to having Lex Luthor as a friend.  
  
Take his connections, for example. In the car on the way to Metropolis it had only taken Lex two phone calls to find out Jenna Iverson's home address. Clark hadn't been surprised to find it was within walking distance of the coffee shop where the two of them had first met. No wonder she had known the neighborhood so well.  
  
He remembered that first meeting vividly, but it now seemed like it had taken place eons ago.  
  
Her apartment building had clearly seen better days, but the hallways were clean. Still, given the neighborhood Clark wasn't surprised that Dr. Iverson left the security chain on the door when he answered it. He could see the concern in the older man's eyes when he saw him, and the flare of suspicion when Iverson caught site of Lex.  
  
"Clark? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go home."  
  
"I had to come," Clark told him. "I have to help if I can."  
  
He could hear the safety chain being removed and a second later the door swung open.  
  
The doctor looked bleary-eyed and disheveled, and squinted past Clark.  
  
"Mr. Luthor?"  
  
With a skill born of long practice Lex brushed past the man.  
  
"Dr. Iverson-Clark told me what happened." Lex spared only a glance for the small apartment. It reminded Clark of his room at home: comfy, well- worn furniture, and books stacked on every horizontal surface.  
  
"I don't want to intrude," Lex continued, "but Clark has told me about the situation with Dr. Garner. I felt I should offer my assistance in person."  
  
The older man sat back down on a denim-covered sofa.  
  
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Luthor, but I don't know that there's anything you can do. And I'd feel better if Clark had stayed at home."  
  
"Dr. Iverson, when did you last see Jenna? What did the police say?" Clark tried not to let his own anxiety seep into his voice.  
  
"The police just left. They told me that since there's no sign of foul play Jenna has to be missing for forty eight hours before I can file a missing persons report." The older man rubbed his hands over his mouth.  
  
Clark gingerly sat next to him. "Dr. Iverson, please, start at the beginning."  
  
"After Jenna and I drove back here on Saturday morning she dropped me at my hotel. She said she had some things to do before classes started again Monday. We had breakfast yesterday morning, and made arrangements for her to drive me to the airport. Everything was fine-she was fine. Then this morning I got a call from the university saying she didn't show up to teach her morning class."  
  
"Could she have forgotten, or made other plans?'' Lex asked.  
  
"No, she'd never go off without finding a substitute, without letting me know. This isn't like her at all."  
  
Clark nodded. "So what did you do?"  
  
"I called everyone I could think of-her friends, her colleagues, her neighbors. No one had seen her since Sunday morning. When I still hadn't heard from her by this afternoon I called the police."  
  
Clark couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a nightmare, and that any moment he'd wake up and Jenna would be safe.  
  
"Did you tell the police about the restraining order? About Garner?"  
  
"I did, but they didn't seem to think it could be related.." The doctor still didn't lift his head, and Clark laid a hand on his back.  
  
"Everything's going to be OK, doctor, really."  
  
He glanced at Lex, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable at the sight of the older man's grief.  
  
"Lex, there's a coffee shop about few blocks from here: would you go get Dr. Iverson something to drink?"  
  
Iverson protested feebly, but Lex seized on the request.  
  
"Of course. I'll be right back."  
  
When the door closed behind Lex Clark shot the doctor a steady look.  
  
"I want you to know I didn't tell Lex any more than I had to. He knows about Jack, but nothing more."  
  
"No, of course not-you're a good boy, Clark," Iverson told him. "I trust you with Jenna's secret, but you still shouldn't have come. Right now you're the only one involved in this mess who hasn't gone missing. We have to assume Jenna's disappearance is connected to Jack's."  
  
"But how? And why? I've seen how strong Jenna is."  
  
"I don't know, Clark." Iverson rubbed his eyes. "I just don't know anything anymore."  
  
Clark glanced around him at the small living room.  
  
"Did the police look around?"  
  
"Just very quickly. No signs of a struggle, no.blood." Iverson nearly choked on the last word.  
  
Clark nodded. "Still, I'd like to take a look. Maybe I can see something they missed."  
  
Iverson nodded, and Clark stood, carefully examining every corner of the room. He checked behind the bookcases, under the sofa, behind the small television perched precariously on a stack of textbooks. He couldn't remember a time when he'd so badly wanted his powers to reveal something, and been so disappointed when they didn't.  
  
He moved on to the short hallway that led to a small bathroom. Even taking his time to examine every surface he saw nothing out of the ordinary there, and moved on the last room.  
  
In Jenna's bedroom the clothes she'd been wearing the last time Clark's had seen her were still crumpled on the floor, as if she'd changed in a hurry. The bed was made, but Clark detected a faint imprint in the covers, as if someone had been sleeping on top of them. Jenna? Someone else?  
  
The Metropolis P.D. had been right about one thing: there were no signs of a struggle having taken place anywhere in the apartment. No broken glass or upset furniture, nothing to indicate Jenna Iverson hadn't just walked away.  
  
Nothing except the gnawing worry in Clark's stomach.  
  
He reluctantly walked back into the living room to find Lex had reappeared with three take-out cups of hot coffee. Lex was trying to coax Iverson into drinking one.  
  
"I checked every place I could think of, but I didn't find anything," Clark said sadly. "Sorry."  
  
"Clark, if the Metropolis police didn't find anything it's unlikely you would have," Lex told him with a wry smile. He nodded at one of cardboard cups. "You might want some milk in that, Clark: that stuff could melt your teeth. I brought some scones, too. Dr. Iverson looks like he could use something to eat."  
  
"Good thinking, Lex." Clark rounded the corner into the small kitchen, separated from the living room by only a counter. He looked in the fridge but didn't find anything to drink. He did, however, find some plates in the cupboard over the empty dish drainer.  
  
"Clark, does something about this picture strike you as odd?"  
  
He looked up to see Lex leaning against the edge of the counter on the kitchen side.  
  
"What, besides a woman who'd never go missing going missing?" Clark retorted.  
  
But Lex shook his head.  
  
"That's not what I mean, Clark. Look at this place." He nodded at the tiny, galley-style kitchen.  
  
Clark glanced around him. It looked like any other apartment kitchen: plain white tile, plain white counters, plain white appliances. In fact, everything was so white it gleamed. He looked back into the living room, where the doctor was slowly sipping his coffee. There there were papers on the coffee table, an open magazine on the couch's armrest. But in the kitchen there wasn't even a dish in the sink.  
  
"It's too clean."  
  
"Exactly. Why is the kitchen spotless, when the rest of the apartment isn't?"  
  
Clark frowned. "Do you think it means something?"  
  
"I don't know." Lex gestured to the empty trashcan by the refrigerator. "Metropolis' trash pick up isn't until Friday. It's only Monday."  
  
When Clark raised his eyebrows at this bit of information Lex shrugged. "Subsidiary of LuthorCorp," he explained.  
  
"Ah." Clark looked carefully around him again. There were a dozen more plausible explanations for a too-clean kitchen. But Lex's instincts seldom steered him wrong.  
  
As Clark watched his friend pulled out his cell phone and punched in a few numbers.  
  
"I don't like this, Clark. I've got someone I can call."  
  
"Someone who?" Iverson spoke up from the living room.  
  
Both younger men jumped-they had almost forgotten about his presence.  
  
Lex went into the living room and sat down in the armchair, his cell still in one hand.  
  
"With your permission I'd like to call an acquaintance of mine. He's handled several situations for me in the past, and he's very good at this kind of thing."  
  
Clark leaned his elbows on the countertop serving area.  
  
"A private detective?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
Iverson shook his head. "Mr. Luthor, I appreciate your concern, and Clark's, but I really."  
  
"Dr. Iverson, if something has happened to your daughter time is of the essence. Please let me help you."  
  
Iverson regarded the young billionaire steadily for a long moment, and Lex met his gaze with a level one of this own. Clark could sense the older man's inner struggle, and was more than relieved when he finally nodded.  
  
"All right. But then I want you to take Clark straight home to his parents, where he belongs."  
  
Clark opened his mouth to protest, but Lex shot him a quick glance.  
  
"Of course, doctor. Of course."  
  
*******************************  
  
"So what do you think, Hale? Think you would have time to work on this?" Lex rested his feet on his desk and opened a bottle of water.  
  
There was a pause on the other end of the line, but only for a second.  
  
"I think I would, Mr. Luthor. The usual fees would apply.."  
  
"Certainly. Call me as soon as you have anything we can take to the police." Lex hung up the phone and took a deep drink from the blue glass bottle. He'd fulfilled his promise to Dr. Iverson and taken Clark home as soon as they'd left Jenna's apartment. But Lex also intended to fulfill the other half of his promise.  
  
He wasn't exactly sure why, though. Maybe it was the naked distress on the older man's face. Lex respected the man, admired his work, but had never really thought about how much he must love his only child. Of course, most parents loved their children, but Lex often forgot how intense that love could be. Iverson had seemed on the verge of collapse, and that worried Lex.  
  
Or maybe it was because his best friend was so upset. Lex still wasn't sure if he believed that Clark's relationship with Jenna was completely innocent, still wasn't sure what tied to two of them together. He'd figure it out sooner or later, though, and in the meantime if there was anything connections or money could do to find the young woman any faster he might as well use them.  
  
LexCorp kept a veritable roster of men willing and able to take on these kinds of situations. They ranged from his father's go-to guys in the Metropolis P.D. to ex-Marines who were willing, for a not inconsiderable fee, to get their hands dirty. But Lex had chosen Hale for his skilled investigating and ability to operate under the radar. Plus Lex knew the man had children of his own, and thus would probably take Jenna Iverson's disappearance more seriously than others would.  
  
Satisfied with his evening's work, Lex was trying to decide what to do with the rest of his night when his father opened the door to the study.  
  
Lex could tell from Lionel's posture that he was still on a tear about something. When he was little Lex had wished his father would be like the dads on television, and just yell at him. Then they could get everything out in the open and move on.  
  
But by the time he had became a teenager Lex had learned that wasn't how his father operated. Lionel's way of handling anger was to become more silent, more cold, than before. He'd tolerated crying and scenes from Lex's mother, but from no one else.  
  
"I thought for sure you'd be back in Metropolis by now, Dad."  
  
"I find I have more business to keep me here than I'd originally thought."  
  
"Business. Of course." Lex stood. "Not that you'd be staying to keep tabs on me," Lex said disingenuously.  
  
"Of course not." But Lex could tell from the slight tick under his father's eye that he'd hit on the truth.  
  
"Dad, I told you before I have nothing but intellectual curiosity about Dr. Iverson, and he has no intentions of allying himself with me or with LexCorp."  
  
"A man of Dr. Iverson's caliber would have his pick of corporations, if he chose to return to the private sector."  
  
Lex smiled. "Like LuthorCorp, you mean? Somehow I don't think that's going to happen either, Dad. You might not be aware of this, but your dislike of the man is palpable. Although, strangely, he had absolutely nothing to say to me about you."  
  
Lionel seemed to relax slightly at this news, and Lex was more intrigued than ever about the relationship between the two. But he was careful to keep his expression unchanged.  
  
His father chucked. "Lex, I'm surprised at you--you know I don't waste time holding personal grudges."  
  
Lex rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Dad. Shall I pour us some scotch?"  
  
***********************************  
  
Lying in bed, watching the moonlight trace patterns on his bedroom ceiling, Clark wondered what he should do. He'd never felt so helpless, so utterly useless in his whole life, not even when he'd been so sick he hadn't been able to get out of bed.  
  
His parents had been justifiably horrified at the news of Jenna's disappearance, and it had taken all of Clark's powers of persuasion to keep them from pulling him out of school again. Not that being in school did him much good-he couldn't concentrate on anything.  
  
By Wednesday, when Jenna Iverson still hadn't reappeared, the Metropolis police had dutifully filed an official missing persons report. But Clark had the distinct impression they were looking for her about as hard as they were for Jack Williams-that is to say, they weren't. Dr. Iverson confided to Clark that, in spite of all of his insistences to the contrary, the police suspected Jenna had had a hand in Jack's disappearance, and that the two of them had left town together.  
  
Clark's parents convinced Iverson to come back to Smallville and stay with them, arguing that if there was any news he could be reached there just as easily as in a Metropolis hotel. When he'd seen how haggard the doctor looked Clark had been relieved his parents had made the gesture. If it wasn't for Martha Kent's cajoling the doctor probably would have quite eating and sleeping. As it was he spent his days on the phone, or staring off into space. Clark could tell worry was eating the poor man alive.  
  
He couldn't do anything about that, either.  
  
The worst of it all was knowing that Jenna might be in danger somewhere, might need his help, and that he couldn't help her.  
  
Clark started having nightmares about that. He had a recurring dream that Jenna was strapped to a gurney somewhere, the way Ryan had been when Clark had rescued him. She was pleading with Clark to help her, but in the dream his feet wouldn't move, and he couldn't reach her.  
  
That was what had woken him up tonight, and he finally gave up trying to sleep and padded downstairs in his t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He was surprised to see the porch light still on, and he stepped outside into the cool night air to find the doctor sitting in the porch swing rocking back and forth contemplatively.  
  
"You couldn't sleep either, huh?"  
  
Iverson smiled tiredly.  
  
"No."  
  
Clark sat down on the porch railing. The moon was full and heavy in the sky, and the air was so still he could hear the corn rustling in the fields.  
  
"We'll find her. I know we will. Jenna's smart, and strong-she rescued me." Clark wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but he continued anyway. "She'll come home."  
  
Iverson shook his head.  
  
"I keep telling myself that. But every day that passes I find it harder and harder to believe it. I've never had to worry for her physical safety, not the way other fathers worry about their daughters. I think now I placed too much faith in her abilities to always keep her safe."  
  
Clark was silent for a long moment, still unsure of what to say. He wasn't like his mother-he wasn't very good at consoling people.  
  
"When was the first time you knew for sure Jenna was different from other kids?" He asked instead. "When you knew for sure she wasn't normal?"  
  
The doctor sighed. "Oh, I suppose I had suspected it for a while, especially after the accident. Of course no parent wants to believe there's anything wrong with his child. But then one day when she was two she was playing in our attic-we lived in a big old house in D.C. then, and the attic was on the third floor. Anyway, one of the window screens was loose, and I just hadn't gotten around to fixing it yet, because I was too busy at work. She was playing on the window seat, and got to close, and she fell out. Three stories."  
  
Clark couldn't help it-he sucked in his breath. "What did you do?"  
  
"What do you think I did? I got hysterical and ran downstairs-I thought she'd be dead, or paralyzed from the fall. Instead I found her sitting on the grass pulling up dandelions, as if she had barely noticed what had happened. That's when I knew."  
  
"My dad says he knew for sure about me when I picked up an antique bed my grandfather had made. It was solid oak, and I was only about three."  
  
Clark could swear Iverson smiled slightly. "Yes, I can imagine that would be alarming. Not every parent is cut out to deal with that kind of thing. I've met many who are not."  
  
Clark was thoughtful for a moment. "I know Jenna didn't inherit her abilities from you or your wife, but can that happen? Can they run in families?"  
  
"Sometimes. Not often. I did meet a family once where they passed from father to daughter along the second X chromosome. But that's very unusual. It takes so many variations happening at the same time, in exactly the right order, to create a metahuman, that it's almost impossible to find the trigger."  
  
"But there are mutagens that can do it," Clark said without thinking. "I've seen it happen."  
  
"You mean your meteor rocks?" The doctor smiled at Clark's expression. "I know all about what those have caused, Clark-we geneticists have heard the stories about Smallville, too."  
  
"And what do you think?"  
  
"What do I think? I don't think those meteor rocks are anything to tamper with. If even half the reported effects of them are true, I'd say they're best left buried as far down in the ground as possible. But I also wouldn't say anything I've heard about their effects leads me to conclude that they always produce metahumans. Quite the opposite."  
  
"Meteor freaks, Chloe calls them."  
  
"That may be a bit harsh, but not completely inaccurate. The mutations are severe, but usually confined to only one ability, strength, say, or psychic ability. They appear abruptly, almost randomly, after exposure, and they aren't always permanent."  
  
"But someone like Jenna, or the other ones you've met."  
  
"Quite permanent, I'm afraid. Like having two different colored eyes or the sickle cell trait. It's just there, and all they can do is live with it."  
  
"Living with it can really suck," Clark said shortly.  
  
"And they'd be the first to admit that. That's why they hide it from other people. Why you hide your abilities from other people."  
  
Clark took a deep breath.  
  
"Only I'm not a metahuman."  
  
"Oh, I figured that out long ago, Clark," the doctor said simply. "But I daresay the feelings are the same."  
  
Clark was so startled by Iverson's quick answer that he couldn't respond for a moment.  
  
"You mean, you knew? All this time?"  
  
"There's nothing to be alarmed about. Jenna figured it out first, because her mental abilities don't work on you. That can only be because your mind-indeed, your whole body--operates differently than hers. And there's no record of the meteor rocks ever being effectively used as a poison on anyone. Except you, Clark."  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Are you upset? I assure you, it doesn't change my opinion of you any more than it changed Jenna's."  
  
"No, not upset, I guess I just.I thought I was covering it really well."  
  
This time Iverson did smile. "Oh, you were, you were. I'm just more attuned to these things than other people, I suppose. Call it an occupational hazard."  
  
Clark shook his head. No one had ever guessed his secret so quickly, and with so little fuss. He hadn't been caught surviving an explosion, or leaping off a building. He'd just been himself, and it had still given him away. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.  
  
"Dr. Iverson?"  
  
"Yes, Clark?"  
  
"Do me a favor and don't tell my parents you know. I don't think they could handle that. Not yet."  
  
Iverson smiled.  
  
"Whatever you say, Clark." 


	13. ch 13

From his corner table in the Talon, Lex watched as his customers milled around the counter, laughing and chatting. He had never intended to get involved in owning a small business, and even though he'd put up the money for the Talon he'd had serious doubts about its long-term survival. But he had to admit it made a nice, if small, profit every month. The Talon had become the unofficial social center for the town: it was where kids hung out after school, where couples arranged dates, and where old people sat and relaxed on lazy Sunday afternoons.  
  
Not that Lex took any credit for it. In fact, the less visible involvement he had with the place the better it seemed to do-after all, the Luthor name remained something of a curse word locally. But no one would dare find fault with Lana Lang.  
  
His only interest in Lana had been trying to steer her in Clark Kent's direction, but the girl had turned out to have a surprisingly good head for business. She thought up endless promotions to keep regulars coming back, and a wide range of other events-from charity auctions to movie nights-to attract new business.  
  
And, he thought as he took a sip from his own mug, the coffee was good.  
  
Now he couldn't help but smile as Clark and Lana shared a table across the room. Judging from the pile of books and papers they were working on some sort of school assignment, but it pleased him to see them sitting together. The couple was taking a ridiculously long time to hook up, but friendship was a start.  
  
Lex would hate to see his first and only attempt at matchmaking end in failure.  
  
His cell phone rang insistently, and several other patrons shot him dirty looks as he dug it out of his coat pocket. Lex ignored them and listened carefully to the voice on the other end.  
  
"No 'hello', Mr. Hale?" Lex said lightly. "You always were a man of few words. What do you have for me?" His eyes narrowed. "Really."  
  
Lex looked up, and managing to catch Clark's eye gestured for him to come over. "Tell me what you've found."  
  
With Clark and Lana standing next to him, Lex listened carefully to Hale's story, jotting a few notes on the back of his receipt. "Right. Right."  
  
Seeing that Clark was chewing his lip nervously Lex held up a finger, cautioning his friend not to interrupt.  
  
"In your experience how much time would you say we have?" Lex listened carefully. Then he glanced at his watch. "All right. Take what you have to the Metropolis P.D. Call me back as soon as they've made their decision. I'll speak to the girl's father."  
  
Lex hung up his phone as Clark landed heavily in a chair.  
  
"That was your PI? What did he say? Is Jenna." Clark trailed off.  
  
"He hasn't found her. But he believes he has good evidence that she was did not leave her apartment of her own accord."  
  
Lana looked genuinely upset, and laid a hand on Clark's arm. "Clark told me what happened," she told Lex, looking at him with a serious expression.  
  
"He's taking what he's learned to the police. I'm no expert, but it sounds to me like enough to get a search warrant for the Summerhill Institute," Lex told his friends.  
  
"I knew it. I knew it," Clark said.  
  
"It isn't conclusive by any means, Clark, but it's a step in the right direction," Lex told him.  
  
"So what did he find?" Lana asked.  
  
Lex looked at Clark with a questioning look, and he shrugged. Lex knew from personal experience Lana could be surprisingly tenacious, so he decided he might as well tell the whole story.  
  
"You'll remember I thought it was a little odd that the kitchen was so clean and that the trash had been removed almost a whole week before it was to be collected. My.employee recovered a bag of trash in a dumpster six blocks away from Jenna's apartment. The junk mail in it indicates it's hers. He also found a variety of food containers, each laced with extremely high doses of barbiturates and sedatives."  
  
Clark shook his head. "Jenna's fridge did seem really empty when I opened it looking for something to drink. But I never thought."  
  
Lana frowned. "I don't understand-why would they want to poison Jenna Iverson? What did she ever do to anybody?"  
  
"Not poison her, Lana-just drug her so she could be removed with a minimum of fuss. Although at those high dosages they might very well have accidentally killed her. I'm sorry to say that, Clark, but it's the truth."  
  
Clark only nodded solemnly, and stood.  
  
"I need to get home and talk to Dr. Iverson. Lana, I'll need a rain check on helping you with that history assignment."  
  
"Of course, Clark, or course. Tell Jenna's father that I'll be hoping for the best."  
  
Lex stood as well.  
  
"I'll come with you, Clark. I think the news might sound better if it comes from me."  
  
As they walked Lex clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. He wasn't sure about Clark's relationship with Jenna, so he wasn't quite sure what he should say. Hale hadn't sounded too hopeful about the chances of finding Jenna alive now that nearly a week had passed, but Lex didn't want to share that information with his young friend.  
  
Instead as they stepped through the Talon's doors he settled on more neutral comment.  
  
"Remember, Clark, whoever took her wanted her alive. There's still reason to hope."  
  
"Maybe. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best-that's what my father says."  
  
Lex nodded encouragingly. For once he was glad to hear one of Jonathan Kent's platitudes.  
  
And the longer such expressions kept Clark from appreciating the grim reality of the situation, the better.  
  
******************************************  
  
"I feel like I should be in there with them," Clark fretted as he peered through the windshield. A police officer was standing at the front doors of the Summerholt Institute, but there was still no sign of the half dozen or so who had entered the building half an hour earlier.  
  
"No, Clark-seeing you would only antagonize Garner further," Dr. Iverson told him. But the older man's own hands kept knotting and unknotting in his tie.  
  
As Lex had promised the evidence produced by his private detective had been enough to push the Metropolis police department into investigating the Institute. They had agreed to execute a search warrant for the missing woman. Their grounds were that the drugs found in the food recovered from the garbage could only have been procured from someone with connections to a medical laboratory or a hospital, and that the restraining order Garner had against Jenna might have led him to perceive her as a threat worth eliminating. Both connections were circumstantial, however, and the Metropolis P.D. doubted they'd be able to take the case any further without new evidence.  
  
Lex had pulled some strings and Clark and Iverson had been permitted to watch the search-but only from a distance. The lead detective had sternly warned them that if they attempted to enter the building themselves he'd have them arresting for interfering with a police investigation.  
  
Clark tried to feel more confident now that the police were taking Jenna's disappearance seriously, but he couldn't. He knew from experience just how slippery Dr. Garner could be. If he had indeed kidnapped Jenna- for what nefarious reason Clark didn't even want to think about it-he wouldn't put her someplace where she would be easily found. After all, Jack Williams had yet to be found, and he'd been missing far longer than Jenna. Though they were careful not to mention this fact, Clark knew both he and Jenna's father were thinking the same thing.  
  
Clark and Iverson also knew-although of course they couldn't share this with the police-that the combination of drugs-- Rohypnol, Thorazine, Phenobarbital-was identical to that used in the attack on Clark.  
  
Clark bit his nails as he waited.  
  
"Dr. Iverson, do you think Lex is right and Jenna might have ingested enough drugs to kill her?"  
  
In the backseat of the unmarked police car where they sat Iverson sighed heavily.  
  
"I hope not, Clark. If Jenna had a normal human physiology it might have, but I honestly don't know how her body might react to those kinds of poisons. And the fact that the drugs were used so heavily leads me to conclude that whoever administered them knew they weren't dealing with an ordinary person."  
  
"They must have learned that from me," Clark said gloomily.  
  
"Perhaps. Although, remember-they wouldn't have affected you at all if they hadn't been mixed with the meteor rocks." Iverson sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "What can possibly be taking so long?"  
  
"There's four floors to the building," Clark explained, "and I guess they're searching room to room." When he had broken into the Institute to rescue Ryan he'd found him on the second floor. But he didn't know how deep the building might go underground. Was there a basement? A sub- basement? What if, like the LuthorCorp plant, the Institute had levels no one knew about? What then?  
  
"Clark, are you feeling well enough to have a look?"  
  
Clark knew instantly what the other man meant.  
  
"I can try. Hold on a sec."  
  
Clark carefully narrowed his line of sight until he could see straight through the concrete façade of the building. The cop out front became only a greenish skeleton standing at attention, and inside he could see the motionless outlines that indicated the furniture in the lobby.  
  
He scanned the portion of the building he could see from this angle, and finally shook his head.  
  
"I can see figures moving on every floor, but I can't tell who's who. It looks like they're all moving back toward the main stairs in the front- maybe they're finishing up the search."  
  
Abruptly his vision flipped back to normal, and Clark's rubbed his forehead ruefully.  
  
Iverson recognized Clark's grimace and winced.  
  
"I'm sorry I asked you to do that, Clark-it obviously still causes you pain."  
  
"Just a little bit, and less every day," Clark quickly told him. "At least it works again, and most of my strength is back."  
  
The lead detective and several other officers appeared at the glass doors, and Clark hastily jumped out of the front seat.  
  
"Clark." Iverson warned, but Clark only waved a hand at him.  
  
"I just want to ask what they found," he called over his shoulder.  
  
The detective, a heavy-set man called Greely, saw Clark approaching and scowled.  
  
"I thought I told you not to interfere."  
  
"I know, but I just thought." He looked from one face to another, and noticed none of the other officers would meet his eyes. His heart sank. "You didn't find anything, did you?"  
  
Greely shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kent, but, no, we didn't. The Institute management allowed us free access to every floor, and we didn't find any evidence Ms. Iverson is here, or has ever been here. Or any evidence other patients, for that matter."  
  
"Are you sure? Did you look everywhere? He could have had her moved."  
  
The detective sighed. "I understand you're upset, young man, but we know our job. I'm telling you, there's nothing here. Now I'd like you to come with me while I break the news to the girl's father."  
  
Greely had a hand on Clark's elbow to steer him back to the car, but at that moment Clark looked up to see Dr. Garner on the other side of the glass. He was standing in the lobby, with his arms folded against the chest of his white lab coat. And he was smirking.  
  
Clark felt a surge of white-hot anger. The man who had killed Ryan, taken Jack and probably Jenna, too, was standing less than three yards away. And the police were doing nothing to stop him.  
  
Clark took a step forward, determined only to get through the glass, to get his hands around Garner's scrawny neck and wring it until he admitted what he'd done. But the detective hauled him back with some difficulty.  
  
"Take it easy, kid. That isn't going to solve anything."  
  
"It might," Clark said through gritted teeth. He wished fervently his parents hadn't raised him to be so careful about using his powers, to respect authority. If they hadn't he might not have hesitated, might already be hearing what had happened to Jenna, might be acting like the ruler he was supposed to be.  
  
"He's right, Clark," a soft voice said from behind him. Clark looked up to see Dr. Iverson standing there. His sad eyes looked calm. "Don't let him provoke you. We aren't through yet, I promise you."  
  
Clark let the rage subside. If Jenna's father wasn't going to create a scene, he couldn't either. As he let the detective guide them both away from the Institute's doors, however, Clark vowed that he would do whatever it took to bring Garner to justice.  
  
Iverson said they weren't done yet, but he had already virtually exhausted what human justice could do.  
  
But Clark wasn't human. And he wasn't going to continue to be bound by their rules in this matter. Not if it meant the difference between life and death for Jenna.  
  
***********************************  
  
Garner swiped his key card through the scanner, and the heavy steel door in front of him automatically unlocked. He pulled it open.  
  
Since only he and a few of his most trusted researchers had access to this area, it lacked the polished décor of the rest of the building. Here the walls were still institutional white, and the lighting was still the buzzing fluorescents that had been installed when the building had been constructed.  
  
But whom did he need to impress down here?  
  
Reaching another door at the end of the long corridor, he punched in a code on a keypad. This door unlocked as well.  
  
Elaborate precautions, perhaps, but until he found out how Clark Kent had managed to remove Ryan James from the Institute, necessary ones.  
  
In the small examining room he carefully bent over his patient, smoothing back the auburn hair.  
  
The eyes were partially open, but unresponsive, a product of the IV drip attached to the arm.  
  
At first Garner had been concerned about using such a high dosage for so long, but it had been necessary in order to keep the patient from becoming violent. The dosage had long ago exceeded that which would be fatal to most humans, but it was still just enough to keep the patient in a stupor.  
  
Garner had initially spent a day or two studying the brain waves, hoping against hope he'd stumbled on to another subject, but that had proved futile. The brain waves were appallingly normal.  
  
However, the subject offered other physiological anomalies of interest. He'd discovered while attaching the IV that cuts, even deep ones, healed almost instantly. He'd tested and observed the same phenomena on the hands and feet.  
  
This, and the subject's abnormal strength, could open up a whole new field of research to him. And whole new sources of funding.  
  
Garner knew a windfall when he saw one. What had started off only as bait had become almost as interesting a subject as Kent himself.  
  
And soon he'd have them both. 


	14. ch 14

In the darkness of the Metropolis night Clark carefully slid around the corner of the Summerholt Institute. It was close to midnight, and he knew most of the staff would be long gone. In fact, downtown Metropolis itself was deserted, with its daytime population now either safely at home in the suburbs or hidden behind security fences in high rise condominium complexes.  
  
But he still didn't see the need to take any unnecessary chances. What he was doing was chance enough.  
  
He'd left a note for his parents and Dr. Iverson to find on the kitchen table for them to find when they woke up. He hadn't been able to explain himself very well, but he had tried. He knew they probably wouldn't understand, which was why he'd waited until everyone was in bed.  
  
He carefully scanned the building, but didn't see any figures moving inside of it. While the front façade gave the Institute an appearance of glamour and elegance, Clark knew from personal experience the building was built much more like a hospital than a regular office building. Finding Jenna, or some evidence of her presence, in the rabbit warren of rooms wouldn't be easy.  
  
But he knew he simply couldn't live with his conscience if he didn't at least try.  
  
At the back of the building Clark found a narrow alley. He'd checked the area earlier, and now with one hand he carefully bent out the air vent cover he'd found. Only about a foot of the ground, his x-ray vision had told him this section of the vent would be wide enough to get him into the building.  
  
The last time he'd been here he'd simple broken in through a side door, but he was willing to bet Garner had improved his security measures since then.  
  
But then Clark had yet to find a security system he couldn't circumvent. In a strange way he was actually kind of proud of that.  
  
The air vent went into the building for a few dozen yards and then sloped sharply upward. Clark instead punched out another vent cover, and found himself in what looked like a janitor's storage closet.  
  
He stepped carefully out into the main hallway. Just as he remembered the place was spotlessly clean and smelled of disinfectant. Most of the lights had been shut off for the night, leaving only the dim glow of emergency lighting. The whole building was cool and as still as death.  
  
Clark looked through the walls to make sure there were no signs of security guards before preceding. As he moved he looked into each room, but saw no signs of anything or anyone on that floor. Using the back staircase rather than the main one he proceeding upstairs, making his way towards the main lab and the treatment room where he had once found Ryan. Once there he bent back the handle on the door until it snapped, and let himself in.  
  
Inside he found nothing of interest, just a row of lab desks and empty chairs. Along the left wall, however, he saw filing cabinets. He quickly he thumbed through the contents, creating a blur of paper, but still couldn't find anything incriminating.  
  
Clark glanced quickly at his watch. Almost a half and hour has passed, and still nothing. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stay without significantly increasing the risk of getting caught.  
  
Finally, in the very bottom of a filing cabinet, shoved way in the back, he found a folded set of blueprints.  
  
Jackpot.  
  
Clark carefully unrolled them, and scanned them as quickly as he could. The police claimed to have searched thoroughly, so Garner must be hiding his actual work. But where? And why hadn't Clark found it with his x-ray vision? Still, he knew from personal experience that whole sections of buildings could be hidden if a builder was determined enough to do it.  
  
Finally he spotted what he was looking for. With a grim smile he hastily rolled the blueprints back up and stuffed them away.  
  
Garner had been clever. But not clever enough.  
  
******************************************  
  
Clark stood at the bottom of a cheaply made metal staircase. Before him was a narrow hallway with a steel door blocking his path.  
  
The Institute's architectural plans had made one fatal error. On the southwest corner of the second floor there had been a single door marked "Emergency Exit." Which would have been fine, except that that corner was designated as storage, not labs.  
  
It was like a riddle.  
  
Why put a door no one would need in a place no one would go?  
  
Because somebody wanted it put there.  
  
Clark could tell from the dingy yellow paint and the low ceiling that this part of the building was considerably older that the rest of the Institute. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say it was left over from whatever building had stood on the site before. And he still couldn't look back through the ceiling to the upper floors. This space, whatever it was, had been encased in metal, probably steel coated with lead, to shelter the people inside it from a bomb blast.  
  
The architects had saved the Cold War relic and merely grafted a new building on top of it.  
  
Clark couldn't scan through the walls, either, but he was able to easily push the heavy door off its hinges. He did the same with a second one. There were only a few rooms off the narrow, twisting corridors and it didn't take him long to search.  
  
Finally he came to an ordinary wooden door, also locked, and slammed his fist through it just above the lock, splintering it so it could be opened.  
  
He sucked in his breath.  
  
Jenna was lying on a table, her head turned to one side. Her eyes were open, but she didn't acknowledge his presence.  
  
He went to her and laid a hand on her throat, feeling a slow but steady pulse. Her heart was still beating.  
  
"Jenna? Can you hear me?"  
  
Clark tried to get her to focus, but she only moaned slightly. He noticed a drip IV attached to her and hastily unhooked it from the plastic shunt in her arm. Blood-flecked gauze was wrapped around the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet, but looking though the bandages Clark couldn't see any visible injuries. A tray of scalpels sat nearby, and Clark angrily knocked them to the floor.  
  
He put one arm under Jenna's neck, and one under her knees, so he could lift her off the table.  
  
"Jenna, everything's all right now. I'm going to get you out of here."  
  
Her head rolled to one side, and her eyes seemed to focus for a moment.  
  
"Clark, no," she murmured incoherently. "Not.safe."  
  
"Don't worry about that now," he told her. "I came to get you and that's what I'm going to do."  
  
Relieved he had most of his strength back, he balanced her in his arms and stepped back through the doorway. He paused for a moment, trying to decide his next move.  
  
"Clark."  
  
"Ssshhhh," Clark told her. "Just hang in there, ok?"  
  
He opted for turning right instead of left, hoping he'd find a quicker way out of the building than the way in. He felt exultant, relieved.  
  
He turned left, and then right again, and finally found a door that led out into a new hallway, this one ending in another staircase.  
  
And waiting for him was Dr. Garner.  
  
He was between Clark and the staircase, but this time Clark felt no fear. He was long past the point of Garner intimidating him.  
  
The other man, however, seemed strangely unsurprised to see him.  
  
"Now, now, Mr. Kent, you know better than to trespass on private property. I thought our friend Detective Greely warned you about that. But then you always had a way of getting in where you don't belong."  
  
He glanced at Jenna's limp form.  
  
"You know, I wouldn't have moved her if I were you. You might have caused her permanent injury."  
  
"I saw the bandages," Clark said through gritted teeth. "What did you do to her?"  
  
"Just an experiment. She's an extraordinary person, Clark, just like you are." Garner smiled sweetly and took a step forward. Clark inched forward towards the stairs.  
  
"You're upset, Clark," Garner continued in a soothing tone. "You've misunderstood my intentions completely. Why don't you put her down and we'll talk."  
  
"I have no intention of talking to you. You killed Ryan. You took Jack."  
  
Garner looked genuinely puzzled for a moment.  
  
"Jack? Ah, yes, Mr. Williams. I'd heard he'd gone missing. Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with that."  
  
Clark shifted Jenna in his arms; she looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes.  
  
"I don't think I'll take your word on that, doctor."  
  
"Suit yourself. Now I've done about all the talking I intend to do, young man." Garner reached into the pocket of his lab coat and produced a small chunk of green rock.  
  
Meteor rock.  
  
Clark felt the searing pain in his body, worse now because he hadn't yet healed from his injuries. He felt to his knees, dropping Jenna to the floor, as his arms could no longer support her weight. He clutched at his shoulder--he could feel fluid seeping from the old wound. The meteor rock had reopened it.  
  
Garner smiled, circling behind Clark.  
  
"It really does have an extraordinary effect on you, doesn't it? I wonder why? Well, no matter, we'll have plenty of time to work that out, you and I."  
  
Clark knew he was writhing in pain; he could hear Garner's footsteps growing closer, but he could no longer see clearly.  
  
He heard Jenna's voice coming from a great distance, just as he had that night. But this time instead of sounding reassuring it was weak and pleading. Pleading for Clark's life.  
  
"Stop, you're killing him!"  
  
"Am I? Tell me, Clark, does it feel like you're dying? Can you describe the pain?"  
  
Clark rolled over on to his back as best he could.  
  
"I'm not going to let you kill me like you did those others. I'm not going to let you kill Jenna." He was having great difficulty speaking. "I'm not going to be more blood on your hands."  
  
"Blood on my hands? What on earth are you talking about? You and Miss Iverson and people like you need to be studied and understood, for the good of mankind. Blood on my hands, indeed. Does the researcher cry over a lab rat, Mr. Kent?"  
  
Clark struggled to make his eyes focus on the lump of meteor rock in Garner's hands. His fevered brain wondered idly if it was the same piece used in that first attack, or if Garner had laid up an endless supply with which to torment him. He watched that evil green glow grow brighter and brighter as it sucked the very life out of his lungs.  
  
And then suddenly the rock was no longer in Garner's hands. It arced over Clark's head, and he heard it shatter as it hit the steel stairs.  
  
Garner let out a cry of rage and anger, and Clark, suddenly able to pull himself into a sitting position again, looked over his shoulder.  
  
In the semi-darkness Clark thought for a moment he was seeing a ghost.  
  
But Garner recognized what was happening much faster than Clark did.  
  
"Jack, what are you doing? Stop that this instant!"  
  
The figure was indeed Jack Williams. Grimy, bare footed, and still wearing the white pajamas issued to him by the State Hospital, the young man stood at the bottom of the stairs, facing his tormentor at the other end of the hallway. But while before Clark had only seen emptiness in Jack's eyes, now they were alive with an unholy light.  
  
Clark, still struggling against the lingering effects of exposure to the meteor rock, pulled himself over to where Jenna lay. Yet he couldn't help but watch as Williams took a step forward, and then another, moving past the two people on the floor as if he didn't even see them. And maybe, Clark thought, he didn't.  
  
There was genuine fear in Garner's voice when he spoke again. Clark realized what Garner himself must already have: that he had been so confident in his capture of Clark than Garner was now cornered in a dead- end hallway. The only way out was past Jack.  
  
Jack continued to walk slowly forward, and raised his arms slightly. Garner seemed rooted to the spot, but whether this was Jack's telekinesis at work or simply fear Clark couldn't judge.  
  
"Jack, now, don't do anything foolish." Garner was gulping air like a fish.  
  
Jack smiled, a ghastly, ghostly smile. "Or what, you'll kill me?"  
  
"Jack, you know I was only trying to help you. Your abilities were making you suffer.I was trying to help you!"  
  
This must have been the wrong thing to say, because Garner's body suddenly lifted into the air and slammed into the back wall, where he remained pined like a butterfly.  
  
"Help me? By torturing me? By experimenting on me?" Jack shook his head slowly. "You should have killed me when you had the chance. Now there's nothing you can do to stop me. It's over."  
  
Clark realized a second too late what Jack intended to do. He cried out, but Jack had already raised his arms over his head.  
  
A wall of orange-red flames appeared, separating Clark from Jack and Garner. As if they had a life of their own the flames curled and licked up the walls, somehow finding enough fuel to keep going of their own accord, spreading inexorably towards the two men.  
  
Even though Clark could no longer see him through the flames and thick smoke, he could hear Garner's cries becoming frantic. The flames hadn't reached him yet, but in a matter of seconds they would.  
  
Jack looked back at Clark, and for a moment their eyes locked. Clark could see a clear expression of satisfaction on the other boy's face.  
  
"Take Jenna out of here," Jack told him, his voice somehow still audible over the fire. "I can only control it for so long."  
  
In a haze, Clark pulled up Jenna's body with his own. She was unconscious again, and his muscles protested vigorously under the dead weight. Still he managed to pick her up again, struggling not to stagger under the combined effects of the smoke and the Kryptonite. He reached the stairs, half-dragging Jenna with him. Overhead he could here ominous sounds of cracking and shifting as Jack's fire worked its way into the very heart of the Institute.  
  
One step up. Then two.  
  
"Kent, please! Help me!" He heard Garner cry.  
  
And then with a rending sound a beam collapsed into the hallway, sending a plume of black smoke spiraling into the stairwell.  
  
Clark could no longer see through the smoke, and he could hear nothing but the crackle of flames and his own labored breathing. But he kept his feet moving, not knowing where he was going but knowing that the only way out was up.  
  
Finally, just as he thought his heart would burst with fear and pain, his shoulder slammed into a hard vertical object. A door.  
  
He opened it, and found to his tremendous relief he was back in Summerholt's elegant lobby. Through the glass front doors he could see the cool night sky and the lights of downtown Metropolis, but flames were already licking across the ceiling. The fire sprinklers could not fight Jack's inferno, and trickles of water ran through flames as if made of gasoline. Clark had never seen anything like it.  
  
He rammed his other shoulder into the glass doors, shattering them and enabling him to step out onto the pavement.  
  
The air felt blessedly cool and he staggered only a few feet before dropping both Jenna and himself on the street.  
  
"Clark?" He heard Jenna ask feebly.  
  
"It's all right, Jenna, we're out." In the distance he could hear the wail of sirens, but the roar of the fire deafened even those as it gnawed at what was left of Garner's empire.  
  
"It's all right," he repeated, more to himself than to the girl. "It's over now." 


	15. ch 15

Clark had never seen a fire of this scale before. The firefighters looked like small ants scurrying back and forth in front of the inferno. The fire Jack had started had engulfed the whole building in seconds, yet it hadn't spread to any of the surrounding structures. Clark couldn't help but wonder if that was Jack's doing, as well.  
  
He sat on the street, now cordoned off as Metropolis' police and fire departments did what they could. Around them snaked hoses and other fire equipment, and he and Jenna were both wet from the spray. The paramedics had tried to give them the once-over, tried to move them, but Clark had refused.  
  
Jenna's eyes were still glazed over, but they were fixed on the fire as if she was somehow aware of what was happening. She sat slumped next to him, leaning against him for support. Clark held on to her with both arms, in part for fear she'd fall over if he let go, and in part because he just wanted to hold on to someone. Anyone.  
  
"Get back! Get back! The roof's coming down!"  
  
Clark looked up in time to see the crews hastily moving back from the blaze as, with a deafening roar, what had been the top floor of the Institute collapsed inward. A shower of sparks shot high into the sky. He wondered idly how far away the fire would be visible.  
  
Clark heard footsteps rapidly approaching, but he was so fixated on watching the fire that he almost didn't recognize Dr. Iverson when he bent down next to them.  
  
"Jenna? Jenna?" The doctor took the woman's limp body in his arms; she only reluctantly released her grip on Clark.  
  
The doctor cupped her face in his hands, trying to get a response. After a long moment the eyes widened slightly.  
  
"Hi, Dad," Jenna said softly.  
  
Iverson made a sound between a cry and a moan and buried his face against his daughter's hair.  
  
"Clark?"  
  
Feeling a hand on his shoulder Clark looked up into Lex Luthor's face. For a second the firelight created odd shadows across Lex's face, giving him a sinister appearance. But then it was gone, and Lex looked the same as he always had.  
  
"Clark, are you two all right? Dr. Iverson found your note, and your mother called me, nearly hysterical."  
  
Lex looked over at where Iverson was rocking his daughter in his arms. He quickly pulled off his black trench coat and placed it around the girl's shoulders.  
  
"Do you know what happened to her? Where's Garner?"  
  
"She was drugged. I found her like that. And Garner's." Clark found he was having a hard time processing any thoughts coherently. The events of the last hour seemed all jumbled together in his mind. Maybe it was the Kryptonite, maybe it was shock. He didn't know and was too tired to care. Instead he pointed at the inferno.  
  
"He's in there. He didn't make it out."  
  
Lex stared hard at what had once been the Summerholt Institute.  
  
"I see. You were both very lucky."  
  
"Not lucky enough, Lex. Jack was in there, too. I couldn't save him.he wouldn't leave."  
  
For a moment Clark thought he saw something, an expression he couldn't identify, dart across Lex's face.  
  
"I'm sure you did what you could, Clark."  
  
"He told me to make sure Jenna got out.I should have gone back for him."  
  
"Don't beat yourself up over this, Clark. You saved Jenna. But you can't always save everyone."  
  
"I should have," Clark repeated bitterly. If only Garner hadn't exposed him to the meteor rocks again. If only Jenna had been capable of moving on her own.  
  
If only. If only.  
  
Lex squeezed his shoulder.  
  
"C'mon, Clark. There's no point in all of us standing here and getting drenched. Dr. Iverson?"  
  
The older man hastily wiped the soot and tears from his eyes.  
  
"Mr. Luthor's right, Clark. Let's get the two of you someplace warm and dry."  
  
He carefully helped his daughter to her feet, and while Jenna leaned heavily on her father's arm Clark followed them back behind the barricades. Someone clapped a scratchy blanket around him, but Clark was barely aware of it.  
  
The fire chief, who was standing nearby, looked at him sorrowfully.  
  
"Are you the kid who said there were two more people in there?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm pulling my men back. This fire is burning way too hot and too unpredictably to risk any more lives."  
  
"An accelerant?" Lex suggested.  
  
The chief shrugged. "Maybe. Whatever started the fire has made the whole place unstable. We're going to let it burn itself out."  
  
Clark nodded numbly.  
  
He knew they would never find any evidence of an accelerant, or of how the fire started. All they would find, once the fire was out, would be the bodies of Summerholt's chief researcher and his most prized patient. But they would never know the whole story.  
  
And somehow that seemed oddly fitting.  
  
************************************  
  
"Jenna? Can I come in?"  
  
At her murmur of assent Clark pushed open the bedroom door.  
  
Jenna was curled on her side on her bed, but didn't turn over to acknowledge his presence. Undeterred, Clark sat down on the edge.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
She moved her head enough so she could look at him.  
  
"Groggy. Humiliated."  
  
Clark raised his eyebrows. "Humiliated? Why?"  
  
She held up her right arm so Clark could see the bandage wrapped around her forearm. Dr. Iverson had waited until they were safely back at Jenna' apartment before removing the shunt that had held Jenna's IV drip. Clark had watched as the wound, now free of the plastic protrusion, seemed to heal instantly. Iverson had bandaged the site anyway.  
  
Jenna sighed. "Clark, I feel so stupid. I walked right into a trap, and didn't even know it." She rubbed her eyes fretfully. "All I can remember is drinking a glass of milk and falling asleep here on my bed."  
  
"You couldn't have known Garner would go after you." Clark shook his head. "If you want to blame anyone, you should blame me. I was the one who dragged you into this. You told me to be careful, and I didn't listen. If anything had happened to you I would never have forgiven myself."  
  
Her expression softened a bit.  
  
"Hey, now, I don't want you taking the rap for this, either. We both got overconfident and made some bad decisions."  
  
Clark shook his head mulishly.  
  
"You don't get it. I was helpless, with Garner standing there holding the meteor rock in his hands. I couldn't even get up off the floor, let alone carry you to safety. If Jack hadn't been there my parents would be filing a missing persons report on me right now. "  
  
"Jack," Jenna repeated softly. "I can't believe it ended like this for him." She sighed. "Well, at least he must have been happy he got to take Garner with him."  
  
Clark remembered the expression of exultation on the young man's face.  
  
"I think he was. Jenna, I think he broke himself out of the hospital. He was just waiting for the chance to get revenge on the doctor who had hurt him. I think he'd gone a little crazy."  
  
She nodded numbly. "Poor Jack."  
  
Clark shook his head. "Jack got what he wanted-Garner's dead, and there's nothing left of the Institute but ashes."  
  
"But that also means no records of what Garner was doing there." Jenna shut her eyes tightly. "If only I could remember anything useful!"  
  
"You were in pretty bad shape when I found you." Clark's throat tightened, and for a moment he couldn't speak. He hastily cleared his throat. "But maybe you will someday."  
  
"Maybe." At the sound of voices down the hall she frowned. "Who's here?"  
  
"My mom and dad and your dad are all drinking coffee in the kitchen. Lex left early this morning to head back to Smallville."  
  
Jenna smiled tiredly. "I still have his coat."  
  
"That's ok-he's probably got a dozen like it."  
  
"How badly did your parents chew you out?"  
  
"Not too bad, actually. My mom hugged me for a half an hour and my dad looked like he couldn't decide between shaking my hand and putting my head through a wall. Fortunately he settled on the first."  
  
"Good, because my renter's insurance doesn't cover holes in my walls." Jenna stifled a yawn with her hand.  
  
"Your dad said the best thing for you right now is sleep, so I won't keep you awake." Clark smiled apologetically. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok."  
  
"I will be, Clark. I will be."  
  
He moved to stand, but before he could do so she seized his hand and squeezed it tightly. He could feel the pressure on his nerves, on the sinews of his hand, and smiled.  
  
"Stop showing off."  
  
"Not showing off," she said sleepily, her eyes already half-closed again. "Just reminding you."  
  
"Of what?" he asked. But Jenna was already asleep.  
  
Clark placed her hand back on the cover and stood, letting himself out of the room as quietly as he could.  
  
******************************************  
  
"Well? What's the news?"  
  
Lex stared at the charred remained of the Summerholt Institute. Nothing was left but some steel beams, twisted by heat into an obscene mass, and piles of broken concrete and melted glass.  
  
Normally he wouldn't have risked coming here, but enough morbidly curious onlookers at stopped at the barricades that he didn't feel too conspicuous. His contact in the Metropolis P.D. nodded in the direction of the building. From their vantage point across the street they could see fire crews and an arson team still sifting through the smoking rubble.  
  
"No sign yet of any obvious accelerant. Fire seems to have started in the basement, but there's no clear source."  
  
"I see. And Garner?"  
  
"The coroner removed one set of remains about half an hour ago. It will have to be identified by dental records, I'm afraid."  
  
Lex narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Clark Kent insisted there were two men in that building when it went up."  
  
The detective rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
"They're going through the debris with a fine-toothed comb, Mr. Luthor, but there's still no sign of a second body. Maybe one of them got out and your friend Kent didn't see him."  
  
"Maybe." Lex carefully held out the folded bills flat in the palm of his hand. "You will keep me posted on what they find?"  
  
The other man shook his hand, transferring the money into his own hand in one smooth maneuver. To anyone watching it would look like a simple handshake.  
  
"Of course, Mr. Luthor. Good day to you."  
  
Lex nodded, and walked back to where he had left his Porsche some blocks away. In a day or so he would have one of his men come out and photograph the site. He'd add them to Clark's file, and then to the new one he'd started on Jenna Iverson. But in the meantime he pondered the situation  
  
Two men. One body.  
  
It was possible, Lex supposed, that either doctor or patient had survived the inferno. And somehow slipped away unnoticed before hundreds of cops, firemen, and spectators. Stranger things had happened.  
  
There was a chance Garner or Williams was still alive.  
  
But the million-dollar question was, which one? And where was he now?  
********************************  
  
"There's going to be hell to pay in Metropolis after all this," Dr. Iverson told the Kents as the two families stepped out onto the porch. "The Daily Planet ran a story about patients being illegally transferred from Metropolis General to Summerholt. Three physicians have already resigned. And there's an internal investigation going on over at S.T.A.R. about possible research leaks to Dr. Garner."  
  
"It's about time," Jonathan said firmly. "There've been too many secrets in this business for too long."  
  
"Maybe if someone at the top had taken responsibility for this earlier Ryan and Jack might still be with us." As Clark spoke, however, he did so without bitterness.  
  
Things hadn't turned out the way he had planned. But he felt that, at last, Ryan James had justice. Jack had made certain Garner would never harm anyone else. Maybe they didn't have the hard evidence they had been looking for, and they might never know for sure what Garner had done to Jenna. But a few choice words from Chloe about her investigation to friends at the Daily Planet had sparked enough publicity to keep the story in the public eye for a long, long time.  
  
And maybe it was better this way, because the police were convinced Clark and Jenna were only minor players in the story. A cursory interview with each had been conducted, and everyone seemed satisfied with their tale of a mysterious but fortunately timed fire.  
  
Jenna, looking healthy and wide-awake after several days of bed rest, kissed each of Clark's parents.  
  
"Thank you for the lovely dinner, Mrs. Kent. It was really nice of you."  
  
"Oh, it was the least we could do on your father's last night in town," Martha smiled. She kissed Dr. Iverson on the cheek, and he shook hands with Clark's father.  
  
"Don't worry," he told them. "You know Clark's secret is safe with us."  
  
"We know," Jonathan assured him.  
  
Iverson turned to face the youngest Kent.  
  
"Clark, I can't thank you enough for everything you did. I might not approve of your methods, but I know your heart is in the right place. Jenna's life is proof enough of that for me."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Then it was Jenna' turn to say goodbye.  
  
"I wish you didn't have to go," Clark complained.  
  
Jenna grinned.  
  
"I'm only going to be in Metropolis, Clark-just a few hours away if you need me. Practically within shouting distance."  
  
"It isn't the same."  
  
"Maybe not, but that's how life is sometimes." She hugged him fiercely, and then to his great surprise quickly kissed him on the mouth.  
  
Clark felt a blush rise all the way to the tips of his ears, but Jenna only laughed.  
  
"Take care of yourself, kid."  
  
The three Kent's watched as the Iverson's climbed into their car and, with much waving, drove away.  
  
Martha sighed.  
  
"I'm going to miss Robert. It was nice having another parent to talk to."  
  
Jonathan put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "He was kind of growing on me, too, honey. But I'm sure we'll see them again. Leastways if Clark has anything to say about it we will."  
  
Jonathan winked at his son, and Clark made a face.  
  
"Daaaadd," he protested.  
  
His parents just smiled.  
  
***********************************  
  
The attempt had ended in ignominious failure.  
  
He wasn't used to failing.  
  
Of course it had been against his better judgment to listen to a man like Garner. Yet, had the man succeeded, it would have provided all of the advantages and none of the risks.  
  
Unfortunately Garner had been quite close-mouthed about his work. All he had wanted was the meteor rock, and that had been easily enough procured. And, unlike the refined version, ordinary meteor rock was not traceable.  
  
So Garner had failed.  
  
But he himself had learned a great deal. Maybe nothing he could prove, as of yet. But he was a patient man.  
  
Lionel Luthor sat back in his chair with a smile.  
  
Oh, yes, he was a very patient man.  
  
************************************  
  
"Where to, young fella?" The farmer leaned out of the window of his pick-up and smiled at the sandy-haired youth in front of him. The poor kid looked like he'd been standing out in the sun all day, and his thin body clearly needed a good meal. The farmer resolved to give him one of the sandwiches in the basket his wife had packed for him.  
  
"Bludhaven, sir."  
  
"That's fair distance to be traveling, but I can set you as far as Taylorsville. Hop in. Name's Ed Kotter."  
  
The young man did as he bade, sliding into the passenger seat of the old Ford.  
  
"Thank you, sir-Mr. Kotter. I do appreciate it."  
  
The farmer chuckled. It was nice to meet a young man who knew how to speak to his elders.  
  
"'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,'" he quoted. "That's what the Good Book says, and I live by it."  
  
The young man looked at him with a steady smile.  
  
"I do too, sir, I do, too. And you can call me 'Jack.'" 


End file.
